A Second Chance
by Hypnotized.By.Golden.Eyes
Summary: Post-BD. Rosalie finds herself sent back in time to her human days. Believing this is a second chance to live the life she was meant to, Rosalie's journey to re-find her place in an old-fashioned society is wrought with ghosts from her past, vampires she should know nothing about, and the realization that her life might not have ever been as perfect as she had imagined it to be.
1. Preface

_**Summary:** **Post-BD. Rosalie finds herself sent back in time to her human days. Believing this is a second chance to live the life she was meant to, Rosalie's journey to re-find her place in an old-fashioned society is wrought with ghosts from her past, vampires she shouldn't know about, and the realization that her life might not have ever been as perfect as she had imagined it to be.**_

 **Thank you for reading, and please tell me what you think! :)**

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 **.:Preface:.**

Rosalie Hale had given plenty of thought to the idea of starting over, wondering what life would have been like if she had remained human, if she had survived. She had thought long and hard, painted endless possibilities in her head, just hoping, dreaming of being able to have a second chance to live the life she was meant to. A human life.

She had dubbed it futile, of course. A hopeless thing to wish for. Unrealistic. She knew the world wasn't made up of dashing princes and slayed dragons, of rainbows over sunsets representing the end of troubled times. No - Rosalie was far from naive. When one evil ended, another began in its place. A relentless cycle of ill fortune. It repeated again and again, even when one had already accepted the world wasn't full of roses without thorns.

For over a century, she had settled for what she had. Maybe even began to become content with it. She had Emmett, after all - half of her happily ever after. She had loving parents, and a loyal family. And then, through her brother and sister-in-law, a miracle happened. A child had been born into the Cullen family, a niece for Rosalie to love, to nurture in a way she only ever dreamed for... But, even happy, she had envied the fact her brother and sister had managed to get right the part in their lives where she had so miserably failed.

Rosalie had thought she had accepted that the world only gave you one chance to get it right.

Until the world gave her a second.

Life did not always play out the way you expected it to. It certainly didn't for Rosalie. Not then, and definitely not now.

Watching the bleak, gray sky of a winter afternoon in Rochester, New York, Rosalie felt lost. Tears welled in her eyes and flowed down her cheeks, streaming through dirt and blood. Everything was wrong. She had tried - tried _so_ hard - and she ended up here, gripping tightly to a life she could have prevented from being lost. A life she could not bear to lose.

"Help," she sobbed, quiet and desperate into the head of dark curls in her arms. Though her hold tightened around him, the boy did not move. " _Please..._ Help me!"

Even as she screamed, Rosalie knew, deep down, that she was completely and utterly alone.


	2. Chapter 1 - Surreal

**A quick update, because a preface isn't a satisfying first chapter, now is it? ;) I hope you enjoy!**

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 **.:Chapter 1 - Surreal:.**

Something was off.

Many things were off, actually.

My eyes were closed, for one, and I felt...odd. Groggy, perhaps? I was not sure if that was the adjective I was looking for. This tiredness wasn't something a vampire felt often, if at all.

The second problem was my eyes were not opening. I was willing them to, but it was taking too long.

Thirdly, I was on the ground, on my back. I twitched my fingers, trying to grasp my position, my surroundings, anything to help me as I waited for my eyes to obey and open. Why was nothing instantaneous?

And the last strange thing was... I took a moment to understand what I was feeling. Every breath I took lacked something as much as it held a significant payoff. For a moment I stopped breathing, trying to mute the sound of my lungs being filled with silence so I could concentrate.

 _Wait._

I gasped, bolting upright, my eyes flying open. Panting, I inhaled all the oxygen I could to relieve the emptiness in my lungs. They were craving it. I was suddenly very aware that I needed air. I **_needed_** to _breathe_.

 _What the hell was going on?_

My eyes darted around me but the world was too bright, too blurry, and definitely not green enough. Hadn't I just been in the forest? Yes, I was hunting. I had needed some time to myself. Everyone had been home. I had spent the whole night holding Renesmee in my arms, with that werewolf Jacob Black blabbering his flea-infested head off the whole time rather than sleeping like he usually did - probably just to irritate me, no doubt. In any case, I had escaped the crowded house around sunrise, simply needing a moment of peace.

I tried to recall what happened after that, but my eyes were finally adjusting to my new surroundings. It was frustrating that I could not adjust and recall memories at the same time. It was like the space in my mind that held my thoughts was suddenly one hundred times smaller in size. Like I had lost the ability to multitask like an immortal. Like I was...

 _No_.

No, it couldn't be.

As my eyesight cleared I took in the world around me. I was not outside at all; rather, I was in a room with a nostalgic twentieth-century mix of pastels and gold and wood architecture. Rose-pink paper taped over plaster walls. A pale white vanity against the northern most wall, decorated in vintage make-up and old perfume bottles of various shapes and colors. A round, garnished ottoman rested beside a gold encrusted wardrobe and a large window that appeared to be made of flimsy glass and oak wood, with sheer white curtains swooping on either side of it. On the southernmost wall sat a rod-iron framed bed with floral, extravagant sheets and frilled pillows to match, and a three-tiered nightstand beside it, littered with old trinkets that somehow felt familiar to me. Above me hung a pretty chandelier with droplets of crystal hanging from pink-frosted glass flowers. The floor was cold and grainy - wood, I realized. Old wood. Not planked or polished or waxed or stained. I suddenly realized that old-fashioned materials were used throughout this whole room. Nothing was modern.

My heart rate increased, making my breathing come out heavier.

And that's when it hit me, one-hundred percent.

My hand flew to my chest. The beats of my pulse pounded against the palm of my hand. I gasped. That could only mean I was...

 _I was human!_

A mix of feelings shot through me too quickly to fully comprehend. Was this what hyperventilating felt like? I'd taken many medical classes, but I did not recall ever experiencing a panic attack in my human days. Except, now I was back in my human days!

Okay. That thought was not helping. I just needed to breathe calmly. I shouldn't have to think about it. Like hunting for a vampire, humans were equipped to handle breathing quite easily.

Once my heartbeat relaxed - not completely, but I had to take what I could get in this situation, whatever this situation was - I observed my surroundings again. The longer I gazed at it, the more I realized I recognized this bedroom. It was mine. It was mine from the 1930's. Memories came flooding back to me, like they were never lost. I suddenly remembered everything - my childhood, my adolescence. I had just turned eighteen last week...

Slowly, carefully, I pushed myself up off the ground. I was in an itchy dress, too tight around the waist and too loose around the shoulders. Across the room, I stared at my reflection in the vanity's mirror. Without my permission, tears began to fill my eyes. I tried blinking them away but it only made them fall. The Rosalie staring back at me had her hair parted at the side, gold bangs waved and clipped up in a traditional early 1930's design, the rest of her hair pulled neatly at the back of her head and slightly to the side in a perfect, studious way. A feathered piece was clipped just above it. And although her complexion was not as shimmering, not as porcelain pale, she was still beautiful. A human kind of beautiful. Warm and soft, with rose-tinted cheeks and red lips.

What caught my attention the most was my eyes - deep blue, almost violet. Definitely violet in the right light, I realized, tilting my head a bit to face the window. A light eye-shadow was applied, but my lashes were naturally long and dark.

Carefully, afraid this was all a cruel illusion, I lifted my hand to my cheek.

How could this be happening?

I slipped back to my seat on the floor. My mind backtracked. I had to rewind my thoughts. I had to remember.

What happened when I went hunting?

 **oOoOoOo**

It was just past dawn, tiny slivers of sunlight peered through the trees from the east. The forest behind our Vermont home was relatively quiet. Quiet was perfect. It was what I needed after a full night of hearing every godforsaken blonde joke on this planet. The mutt only got away with it while Nessie was asleep, or away. According to Edward, I had irritated the mutt more than usual yesterday and he wanted to return the favor, so he stayed up all night with us, running his mouth. The moron. I was quite ready to strangle him had Esme not returned from her own evening of hunting with Carlisle.

"Why don't you take a moment for yourself, Rose," she had said when catching whatever expression I was aiming at Jacob. "The trees are very peaceful today."

She was right. Everything was green, glossy with early-morning dew, and there was no wind to ruffle the leaves. All the animals were still sleeping. It was very still.

I was sat at a cliffside - one I had discovered and often ventured to to be alone - when the stillness ended.

A twig snapped, just behind me. Hissing, I spun around and onto my feet in the same movement. I hadn't sensed anything coming. My eyes widened, landing on the figure who appeared at the first line of trees. A young woman, almost as tall as I was. She was dressed in casual hiking attire that was clearly not cheap by the look of the fabric and design. Her hair was black, wild at the top in a messy bun sticking every which way, and gradually straightening and smoothing out as it stretched below her shoulders, stopping cuttingly at her waist. Massive golden hoops hung from her ears to match the jewelry around her neck and her septum piercing. And, although nowhere near my degree, she _was_ lovely to look at. She appeared human - dark-skinned with no pale-dusted complexion of the immortal - and hazel eyes.

However, her smell was off. It was like nothing I'd ever encountered - sweet and bitter at the same time. I didn't know how to feel about it; my instincts had nothing to offer. It was almost as if the scent of vampires and werewolves mated and produced this concoction. There was no denying it was supernatural.

The strange-scented woman smiled at me. Her lips were thin, chapped, and there was a gap between her otherwise straight front teeth. There was something strangely wicked about her.

"Hello, there," she said, still smiling.

For a second, I didn't move. I didn't dare. This could be a trap. She could be an enemy - of my kind, of my family. Anything was a possibility after all I had seen. My family's history hadn't given me much freedom to trust. And, to be quite honest, I hadn't been keen to trust anyone much regardless.

Finally, I responded. "How did you get here?"

She ignored my question. "No introductions?" she asked. Her voice had an elegant, almost old-fashioned, tenure. What century was _she_ from? It very well couldn't be this one.

I decided to play her game. "Fine, then. Who are you?"

She smiled at me again. "Does it matter?"

"You wanted introductions."

"I wanted yours," she corrected. "Although, you may deny the request if you so choose. I was simply being polite, Rosalie."

Again, my muscles tensed. How did she-

"I know more than I let on," she simply stated, as if answering my thoughts. My mind immediately went to Edward, and I wondered if this woman could also read minds. I tried to grasp every faucet of knowledge I possessed on the supernatural. This woman clearly was not human; yet, she wasn't a vampire, either. I searched for an explanation in my decades of information, but to no avail. There was no match.

She had to have heard of me from somewhere then. From somebody. My family was a popular subject of gossip across the vampire grape vine since our encounter with the Volturi last year.

"You must be confused, of course, but I do not mean you any harm." The woman folded her hands behind her back. Trying to placate me? Trying to seem innocent? If she thought I was going to let my guard down, she didn't know me was well as she might have thought. However, she continued to speak reassuringly to me. "There is only one reason I am here, and it is because I was drawn to you. I cannot help these things. It is a curse, really." She laughed once. "Beckoned by those who desire what they cannot have."

I straightened my defensive stance, but did not relax. "If you think you are making any sense at all-"

"Oh, I know I'm not." She sighed, seeming genuinely disappointed by that fact. "Look, dear, I hate to be cryptic-" _She could have fooled me._ "-so let me just say it. I can grant you exactly what you want."

Her words stirred uneasily in my stomach. What ridiculousness was she claiming? The things I wanted could not be granted. Not ever. And to plant any hope of that... Well, it was just rude!

Suddenly, I was angry.

"I don't know what game you are playing," I told her, fierce, "but I want no part of it."

"On the contrary, I believe you want every part of it."

I growled. She didn't move. If she was smarter, she would have started running now.

Before I could make any move, she asked, "Do you not wonder what I am? What I can do?" When I didn't respond, she continued, "I hardly chose this life, Rosalie Hale, any more than you chose yours."

My eyes narrowed dangerously at her. What did she know about my life? I supposed it was strange - she was strange. Her questions were legitimate, at least. I had no idea what in the hell she was. She had appeared out of nowhere. I didn't sense her coming, did not catch her scent; yet, she had a heartbeat, a pulse... It was slower than Renesmee's hummingbird thrumming, however, so she couldn't be half-immortal, half-human either.

A part of me was wondering if Alice was seeing this.

"I belong to a very different family," the girl said, reading something in my curious expression that must have encouraged her. "Still similar to a clan, however. Same beliefs; same abilities...to an extent."

"Cut the crap," I said. Impatience was wearing me thin. "How do you know me?"

"My power rests with detection of desire," she answered. She was smiling again. "I was merely passing through when I detected you, out here, alone. I sensed you craved something deeply. I only came to see if I could help. And I only know you, because I sensed you, and the information came to me, weaving pieces together to make sense of you - it is a strange science I would rather not get into. I know very little about how it works myself. It's just...well, I feel your passion, Rosalie. You feel things on a great level - whether that be love...or loss. And you have lost something, have you not? Something you want desperately back? I know you do. And I can help you."

"Nobody can help me," I murmured. Then more clearly I said, "What makes you so sure you can?"

"I have been healing holes in creatures' lives for over a century. I have great power, and great practice wielding it."

"Power?" I questioned.

"Spells, dear one."

 _Spells._

"Are you trying to tell me that you are some sort of witch?"

"Witch. Mage. Sorceress. The title does not matter."

I scoffed. "You are joking."

"Why is that so difficult to believe, vampire?" She was not amused, simply factual. I stared at her for a good long while, neither of us speaking. Hadn't I just thought that anything was possible, after what my family had seen?

The witch-mage-sorceress tilted her head at me. "Your resolve is wavering."

"Tsk," I hissed. "You have me curious, I will admit. But you have not proven that you can help me. In fact, I know you can't. Magic or no magic, you can't alter physics, you can't change the past, and you can't grant me what I wish like some genie."

"'Magic' is just science without the knowledge of an explanation, dear. You are right, though - history and physics cannot be reshaped. What you seek, however, does not require that they do." She gazed at the ground briefly, one hand rising to her temple, pressing against it in a way Alice sometimes did when she grew a headache. "I see... I see what it is you're after, young Rosalie. And you are correct again - I can't give that to you."

I arched a perfect eyebrow at her, in a way to say _'I told you so'_. Yet, somewhere deep inside me I must have been grasping for that little bit of faith in this strange woman's words, because it let go of that faith immediately and sank back into the depths of my soul.

 _I didn't expect anything - how could I possibly be disappointed?!_

"However," the witch continued, "what I can do is give you a chance to give it to yourself."

"What are you talking about?" My voice was nothing more than a whisper. Solid and still fierce, but quiet, cautious.

"There are certain spells we witches-" she smiled at the name "-have conjured up over the billions of years we have existed. Breaking through the walls of time is difficult, and, for the most part, forbidden, but it is not impossible." Before I had a chance to interrupt with incredulous snark, she hastily continued. "I inherited such spells from my mother. She was a rebel and a lover of the darker arts, bless her heart. I can recite such a spell for you, if you wish for the opportunity to change whatever went wrong...when you were human."

I wasn't even aware I hadn't been breathing until I inhaled sharply at her words.

"You said the past was out of your control," I reminded her, not willing to hope, not wanting to believe.

"The past in this timeline is set," she agreed. "You are well-coursed in the sciences and arithmetic, surely you have given thought to alternate universes."

It felt redundant, but I just knew she had to be kidding me. Parallel universes were things of fiction.

Of course, in the human world, so were vampires...

"Rosalie, I have the ability to guide you to where you can go and start over. But that is all I can offer. A universe where you do not exist - not until I place you there, with all of this universe's history."

"That," I started, but cut off. My brain could not wrap around this.

"The only question is how much are you willing to give up for your dream?"

"Anything!" I didn't even think - I just answered. It was the truth, anyway. For an opportunity to be human again, to have a family... How could I say no? It was all I ever wanted for as long as I could remember.

"Anything?" the witch wondered pressingly. "You're willing to give up everything in this life for this chance?"

Everything?

All I had was my family. Carlisle and Esme, my brothers and sisters, my niece...

Emmett...

I already had thought about this. Thought about this more times than I would ever care to admit. The thought of losing any of them was hard. Oh, it certainly hurt to think about. But so did the alternative. Years upon years, decade after decade I had wondered what my life would have been like if I had continued life as a human. Yes, I had imagined losing my family - the ones I would do anything for. And, of course, I had pictured my life without Emmett - my mate, the one person in this whole expanse of universe who truly understood me, and loved me, no matter what mistakes I made. Hell, I had even talked about this very scenario with him once. It had just come up in our conversation, casual and curious.

 _What would you do, Rose? Would you let me go to have a baby, to raise it and grow old with your husband?_

I had thought hard about it. I always told him the truth, and I owed it to him to not make rash decisions, fictional scenarios or not. I loved him, and I always would. Nothing could ever change that. But he had to have known that, in the end, this hole in my heart had to be filled. I thought he would hate me when I told him that, despite how I felt about him, I _would_ leave him.

I remembered the perfect smile he gave me after I'd answered him. It had surprised me.

 _Good,_ he had said. _I'd want you to._

Even after all this time, he still amazed me. I wasn't used to being treated the way Emmett treated me. No matter what, all he wanted was for me to be the happiest I could possibly be.

Maybe now I could be.

 **oOoOoOo**

"Rosalie?" a woman called, bringing me back to the present.

Or the past.

Or wherever the hell I was.

An alternate past, I guessed. The witch had been telling the truth. I remembered now, agreeing to give up my life for this one. My choice was made. The deed was done.

Wasn't it?

I peered down at my hands again, flexing my fingers, feeling the lack of senses I was used to having at my disposal. I could feel my heart beating against the inside of my chest.

"Rosalie?" My name was called again. The voice was close but the sound was distant. It was a sound from a memory, too far back to clearly remember. But I was sure I had heard it before.

Before I could contemplate further, the woman the voice belonged to appeared in the doorway. Everything about her was light. Soft, yellow waves of hair swooped into a low bun at the back of her head, much like mine. Soft, pale skin wrinkled slightly around her caramel brown eyes and her frowning full lips. Again like me, she wore clothes not fit for the twenty-first century.

Oh my God...

" _Mother_?" I whispered, not believing it. She was right there. No more than five feet away from me. My human mother. From so, so long ago.

She stared down at me, a hint of confusion building on her face. A perfectly arched eyebrow lifted up. "Why are you sitting on the floor?" she asked.

Without another moment of thought, I scrambled to my feet and threw myself at this woman who seemed so much a stranger to me now, yet who I still felt love for. And, just as they had before, the memories began to come back to me until she was no longer such a stranger.

Eleanor Hale. My birth mother.

She hugged me back, awkwardly. Patting my shoulders slightly, she pulled away just enough to get a look at my face. I studied hers as she glanced over mine. To me, she was new; to her, I guessed, it was all just an ordinary day in Rochester, New York.

Finally, it was all starting to sink in. To make sense. So much so that I could finally get a grip on it.

"Are you feeling alright, darling?" my mother asked me.

"I am perfect," I answered. As I said them, I knew my words were true. My heart still raced, but it was excitement now, rather than anxiety.

My mother studied me for a moment longer. Appeased once I straightened myself and flattened out the crinkles I had made in my dress, she smiled at me - my smile.

"I've been calling you," she said. "The Braxton's are here - Loretta and your Vera. They've brought little Henry with them. Isn't that darling? Come on, now. They are waiting." She was already walking back down the hall. "I'm having Sonya put out some of the Chocolate Poundcake we baked this morning. Your father might be put out with us when he gets home tonight, but you know how I love my sweets in the afternoon, and besides - there's company!" Her trill was so familiar now. Hearing her laughter tread down the hall brought back an onslaught of lost memories.

Yes, my mother had a habit of snacking on desserts meant for after dinner.

Yes, my father will definitely say something about it, but he could never hold it against my mother for long.

Vera - my very best friend Vera - and her mother were visiting. Their last name was Braxton; but no, Vera had married a carpenter whose surname was Cole. Mother never remembered. She refused to remember, I thought, for she did not agree with a carpenter for a husband. But she had been friends with Loretta Braxton longer than I had been friends with Vera.

Then I remembered... They had brought Henry. Vera's little boy, one of the only clear faces I held onto for all this time.

Wiping away the pools of tears that had formed at the corner of my eyes, I hurried back to the mirror in my bedroom. I glanced over my reflection again, quickly, admiring the details that hadn't been present in the quality of immortal skin and straightening the accessories I wanted to call "vintage" but knew were completely modern in this time. Once I established that I was remarkably presentable, I dashed for the stairs, eager to see the baby I had adored.

It was so surreal.

I was back in the 1930's. I was back to my old home. Like nothing had ever happened. Like it was all a dream.

But I knew it wasn't.

Even as I hurried down the carpeted steps of my old family, Rochester home, nostalgia and excitement coursing through my veins alongside actual human blood, I was quite aware of the favorable circumstance I had stumbled upon. The furor of my emotions was shadowing the things I didn't want to think about - the things I gave up. At the same time, I knew I had a reason for giving them up, and I let the elation consume me.

For the first time in too long, there was hope.

As impossible as it seemed, I had a second chance. At life. At love. At happiness.

This time, nobody was going to screw it up.


	3. Chapter 2 - 1933

**Thank you for reviewing! It took me a while to get this chapter to flow the way I wanted it to, so I hope you like it. :)**

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 **.:Chapter 2 - 1933:.**

New York in the 1930's was loud, alive, and humming with energy. Every person on the streets had a train to catch to their dreams, and time was of essence. Prohibition was failing, Nazi Germany was in its prime, Franklin D. Roosevelt was beginning his war on banks, and - as every newspaper in the stands blared in dark bold font - the consequences of the 1929 stock market crash were proving to be more detrimental than originally thought.

And I had the privilege to relive it all. The history of my time period had never appealed to me. Aside from music and entertainment, the world was more or less in chaos and unequivocally unfair. I honestly hadn't thought much about it until I was back; but, good or bad, here I was.

It had been two weeks since my return to my mortal life. The first day was a blur of nostalgia; from people to food, everything was brand new. It was as if I was experiencing things for the first time. Excitement had coursed through my veins stronger than the current of the Atlantic. I had hugged friends and family much too tightly and quite un-apologetically. I shadowed my mother and father as much as was deemed sane, and my little brothers - Roland and Robert, whom I hadn't gotten along with quite as well as I thought I should have. One thing that was just as I remembered was the magic of my family's extravagant lifestyle. Even after all these years, donning a luxurious gown and strolling through a ballroom that was an architectural beauty was a thrill for me. Something I enjoyed. Something I had missed. Life was never dull when there was always a party to attend, and people to impress. This was how I related to my family. This was not just who _I_ was; this was who _we_ were.

Out of my fourteen days back that I was not parading in glamorous fabrics to entrancing music from my childhood, I had spent nine of those days relishing in the company of my best friend, Vera, and her little boy Henry. I adored that child more than words could describe. His laughter was contagious, and his tiny hands reached up to me with genuine want that had nothing to do with how I looked. And when the contours of his soft face and the wisps of curly hair began to transform into a man I knew I could not allow myself to think about, I pictured my own children. Children I had the freedom to dream of having. Children that I could actually, truly have! The thought had kept me lightheaded for days. Still did. Even through the uncomfortable menstrual pain, I rejoiced in my monthly cycles. Let other women complain about the trivialities - a working uterus was a goddamn blessing. I was not taking it for granted again.

So, yes, falling back into the role of beautiful and rich Rosalie Hale, who had no care in the world, had been easy.

Until it started feeling like a vacation rather than an actual lifestyle I wished to reclaim.

As the days passed, each one became slightly less intoxicating than the one before it. The dwindling euphoria was caving, as a subconscious weight bore down heavier and heavier upon the canopy I had forged for it in my thoughts. Whatever was stirring, I could not deal with it. Not now. Not when I just got my life back. So, I continued to repress the emotions and enjoy whatever "vacation" was available to me.

Boisterous laughter brought me out of my reverie.

The sun was a miraculous visitant to our late-morning Sunday. My father - a strict-looking man who wore pinstripe suits and black bowler hats religiously - had his casual sleeves rolled to his elbow as he rearranged car parts on the driveway of our estate. He was teaching my younger brothers the basic mechanics of automobiles. He never thought to ask if I wanted to learn. God forbid I was interested in something other than jewelry and clothes. For all intents and purposes, I supposed, at one point, it was all that truly mattered. If it helped me gain attention; if it brought our popularity numbers up in the social latter. And now, well, the feminine beauty that I was, I probably shouldn't even know those objects my father was meticulously organizing were parts that belonged in a car. _Tsk_. It wasn't like my father's 1931 Mercedes Benz 770 was anything to write home about. I had experienced much, much better.

I groaned, stretching back in my parent's porch swing and reaching my bare feet up on the ottoman. The sunshine was mesmerizing; the warmth as it caressed by skin was a memory I'd long forgotten. I wanted to bathe in the light; yet, at the same time, the simple comforts of humanity were not enough to keep me from the daunting knowledge that everything was beginning to feel a little...outdated. I tossed _Vogue_ to the floor with a sigh.

The front door opened. My mother strode out, her grin shining and enthusiastic. "Who's ready to have breakfast for lunch?" she called. My brothers had never moved so fast.

 **OoOoOoO**

"Have you seen this, Eleanor?"

I finished pouring everyone a glass of orange juice and took my seat at the table. Father scoffed at the newspaper in his hands. Dear old Dad was always disgruntled about something.

"They are calling it a Depression now," he said.

"Weren't they already calling it that?" Mother questioned. She set plates of pancakes on the table, beside powdered sugar and a bowl of strawberries. The boys were digging in before she even pulled her hands away.

"It was a recession, dear."

"Right, right." Mother sighed. "Things were doing so well in the last couple years. How did this happen?"

"People not taking responsibility for their own failures." I realized that by 'people' he really meant the lower class. The poor and the impoverished. The destitute and the struggling. The unlucky and the bad-off. The people out there who were probably fighting the hardest out of us all. This was the logic of my father. This was the logic of my upbringing. It seemed so tragic somehow.

"Perhaps," I started, sliding a knife excitedly through a breakfast entrée I forgot the taste of. "Perhaps, it was the increasingly uneven distribution of wealth and purchasing power in the 20's that's to blame." My parents turned to me. "Or the decades of agricultural slump." I poured a spoonful of strawberries onto my plate. Was that too much or too little? I hadn't had to deal with taste buds in this way for a long time.

"Or maybe," I continued, "the cause lies with the international instability caused by World War I…" Which reminded me, of course, that a war was on the rise once again. I glanced at my little rambunctious brothers. Why hadn't I ever checked to see if they had joined the military? I supposed I assumed they would be in the banking business with our father. "By all accounts, the Depression was- _is_ an avoidable consequence we should learn from," I finished, finally taking a bite of food. The strawberry-to-syrup ratio was perfect.

My father's deep laugh echoed throughout the kitchen.

"Why, Rose, quit talking nonsense." He disappeared behind the paper again. "All this finger-pointing at the higher class is Progressive rubbish. A little patience, hard-work, and perseverance is all a man needs to get employed. Same for business management."

"How about a woman?" I wondered aloud automatically.

Every eye in the kitchen flickered to me. Forks froze above half-eaten pancakes, and eyebrows raised around the room. My family stared at me as if they had no idea who I was. Maybe they didn't.

My heart sank, but I held my head higher.

"What does a woman need to get employed?" I urged.

"She needs a nice set of-"

"Roland Hale!" Mother chastised before he could finish. Roland ducked under the table, while Robert attempted to keep syrup and strawberries from coming out of his nose.

Typical.

Father ignored the whole exchange and set his eyes on mine. "Ladies have their roles, as well. A good woman needs to be faithful, elegant, and dutiful. You remember that."

Translation: women needed to be dependent, beautiful, and obedient. _Welcome to the Thirties!_

 _Depression, indeed,_ I thought, sighing, before filling my mouth with a forkful of pancake. Why did they have to make being a housewife sound so oppressing? I would love to stay home and raise the children, but I'd be stupid to think it was easy work. And until then, a woman needed to be independent, no matter their ultimate goal.

"Speaking of…" Father set down his paper. The stare he aimed at me now churned my stomach. I had not meant to set up the next words out of his mouth. "There are some fine new interns at the bank. Fresh out of Dartmouth, out of Cornell. Promising futures in business. Wealthy parents."

"Enthralling."

" _Rosalie_." It was my turn to be chastised by my mother. "Where did this attitude come from? Honestly, it's like you've become a different person these past few days."

I balked. I hadn't been acting _that_ different.

Had I?

"Ah, leave her be, Eleanor," Father said, finally enticed to dig into his own brunch. "She knows as well as us that only _the best_ will due for our Rose." Their eyes met. There was a glint in the blue of their gazes that I couldn't decipher. Mother grinned at me, and it was then I realized, for the first time in probably my entire existence, just how sly her smiles always seemed.

 **OoOoOoO**

When I woke up the next morning it was to my mother pulling open the curtains. The sky was already a light blue. Another nice day in the tail of Winter.

"Morning, dear," mother said, securing the folded curtains to their respective sides of the window. "There is a lot to do today. I need your help." She smiled at me as I rubbed sleep away from my eyes; her own glittered in a way that made me suspicious. After brunch yesterday, I paid extra attention to my lovely mother's habits and I discovered exactly how she survived in our world of luxuries when her own parents (my grandparents) hadn't been so wealthy - my mother was scheming. She was always planning something, and I wondered if I had ever noticed the first time around. Or was I so focused on being Rosalie Hale that I had failed to see what was so obvious?

Mother patted a pile of clothes on the bed. She must have laid them out before waking me. The fabrics were bright, smooth - brand new. "Sonya will help you dress," she said.

I held in a sarcastic retort about our maid helping me dress, and said, "This is awfully nice, Mother." My fingertips brushed over the soft silk, running under a trim of lace.

She shot me an odd look, partly amused. "Surely you are not complaining."

"Oh, not me!" I couldn't help but laugh. She knew part of me well enough, I couldn't deny that. "What is the occasion?" I might not mind being expensively doted upon, but I had a tremendous selection of beautiful clothes for casual wear. What she was giving me was far too formal for a Monday helping with errands and chores.

"No occasion. Your father would simply adore seeing your new outfit on you. He picked it out himself. If you ask me, he is becoming much too confident shopping for women's wear." She laughed, the sound ringing like bells.

After Sonya helped me dress (unnecessarily, I might add), Mother twirled her finger around, a gesture at me to spin. The dress was tight, bound to my body in a way that would have Emmett's jaw dropping, and the lower style neck-cut bared my collarbones and cleavage in a quite scandalous display for the thirties. In the mirror, I could see the purple of the fabric made the color of my eyes pop. I was gorgeous, of course. And, yet, my mind had wandered to _Him_ automatically, without my permission, before I could even comprehend what it was doing, and now, well... I could not bring myself to stop picturing him. In the mirror. By my side. With his smile and dimples and raucous, obnoxious, wonderful laugh.

"Wonderful!" Mother exclaimed. "Now let's brush the night out of your hair and pin the barrette. Sonya, get her her shoes. Ah, Rosalie, dear, there is no reason for you to cry."

I blinked. A tear fell from the eyes of my reflection in the vanity. I quickly disposed of it with the back of my hand.

"Oh... It... It's just so beautiful, isn't it?" I stammered.

Mother leaned in beside me, gripping my shoulders, admiring my reflection with me. "You most certainly are."

It struck me how easy it was to brush that off, to blame my emotions on an expensive dress and have her believe it, to not even flutter an eyelash at it. This was credible for Rosalie Lillian - the rich, beautiful, shallow daughter of the Hales. But now I wondered: how long ago did that Rosalie exist? Was I still her?

Frustrated, I shook that thought out of my head, reminding myself that it didn't matter. Nothing was getting in the way of my dreams this time, not even me.

The memory of Emmett shook his head at me. He didn't think he was going anywhere.

I fought the urge to scowl, something definitely out of the ordinary for a Rosalie who loved her life, and tried focusing back on the present.

"So, what did you need my help with today?" I asked, mesmerized with the way my heels clicked against the floorboards as I followed Mother to the kitchen for breakfast. Heels had a way of making power sound beautiful; it was a welcome distraction.

"Your father was in a hurry this morning and forgot his lunch," Mother answered. "I even reminded him as he was heading out, but you know how your father gets in his business-mood before work."

My heart rate accelerated at her words, but I wasn't sure why.

"I have an outing planned with the LaMottes in an hour, and then I have to speak with the boys' teacher about their excellent performance." Her voice tilted into pride at the end. Then she looked back at me. "The bank isn't too far. So, be a dear and bring your father his lunch, will you?"

We reached the kitchen, but I was frozen by the threshold. Ice blanketed my body. Heat boiled along the inside of my abdomen, rising. My head spun, as I realized the story she was manufacturing.

 _No..._

Mother's eyes gleamed when she added, "Seeing how stunning you look in your new dress will be an extra surprise!"

Deja'vu struck so hard I felt nauseous. My mind was relentless as it screamed at me, because it knew. Oh, did it know.

The new dress was not for me at all. It wasn't even for my father.

"Oh, Mother, no," I said, gripping the threshold. The room was suddenly too bright. "No, no, no. Absolutely not. I... The bank is on the other side of town, and-"

"Rosalie," Mother laughed. "It isn't that far at all when you take the transit."

"Yes, but the weather- Didn't the paper say it was supposed to rain this week?"

"Not until Wednesday." Mother eyed me suspiciously. "Honestly, we have visited your father at work before. What has gotten into you?"

I took a deep breath. There was no need to panic over this. It was an inevitable page in my history and I would deal with it. Enduring was what I did best.

"Mother," I said, hoping my tone sounded as lighthearted as I intended. "I don't suppose this has anything to do with a boy?"

My bluntness surprised her. She didn't know how to respond. Then, in typical Hale fashion, she cleared her throat and composed herself, saying, "A man, actually. Not a _boy_."

A strained laugh escaped my lips. "I highly doubt that," I muttered.

Mother placed her delicate hands on her hips. She could not quite match my own superior tenor, but I could definitely see where the dominant gene came from. "This is not usually like you. Talking back? What would your father say?"

I wanted to tell her that I didn't quite care what my father had to say. I wanted to explain that I was older than my grandparents, let alone my mother and father, and that their way of thinking no longer appealed to me. I wanted everyone to know that I was so far from the child they once knew that it made my head hurt and my hands tremble and my eyes water.

And my heart ached with every human beat because I had a bad feeling I was not Rosalie Hale anymore - I was Rosalie Cullen...

Mother's voice was hard to focus on through my inner turmoil. "The Kings' son has begun his training to take over the bank, and he's your age, Darling! As a promising young man with a pricey upbringing and a magnificent inheritance - surely, you two would get along."

My hands balled into fists around my skirt.

"With all due respect, Mother, I don't want to."

"Rosalie, you aren't thinking clearly. The number of doors that will open for us when you're a King are..." She trailed off, lost in her dream. Which was the real tragedy in it all, wasn't it? Back then, I was living my parents' dream. I didn't find my own, until the very end, when it was already too late.

My mother's blissful imaginings were my nightmare. She had to understand.

"What if he's not the one for me, despite the possibilities? What if I'm not happy with him?"

The questions had a zero percent affect on my ambitious mother. "Oh, you are worrying about all the wrong things, honey. Royce is a find young man."

I automatically cringed as she finally said his name. Nausea had become my best friend in such a short few minutes. "Are you sure, Mother? Have you known him long?"

Her answering scowl was as beautiful as it was impatient. "At eighteen, you should be searching for a husband. A wealthy man," she specified. "A man who can provide for you and your family."

"What if I said I wanted to provide for my own family?"

She laughed like I had just told a sick joke. Of course she did. What had I been expecting? Support? Love? Compassion? When I met my mother's eyes again, I searched for someone else's. Kind and gentle; gold and warm.

I found only the cold blue of the woman who birthed me.

"Do I look like I am joking, Mother?"

"Oh, Rosalie, you don't have to work! You'll never have to worry about that." She assessed me curiously, though her hands never moved from her hips. "You have never mentioned working before... Is there something you aren't telling me?" Her eyes narrowed. "Is it Vera? Some of your other lower friends, perhaps?"

"What? Mother, no-"

"Have they been filling your head with these Progressive ideas-"

"Enough!"

My mother and I were at a standoff. Our eyes were level, matched in both pride and condescension. Neither of us was willing to put aside our egos, but maybe I had to. When I pictured redoing my life, it hadn't involved upsetting my parents, or disappointing them, or fighting with them. With my dignity in tact, maybe I had to find the compromise. Even though it made me sick just thinking about what I was contemplating on doing, I knew there had to be a way around this. A better plan. A strategy I could succeed with. This was my life. If Royce King was destined to have a chapter in my history book, I would be in charge of how long that chapter was and how it ended.

"Look," I finally said. "If I agree to meet him, and I still do not care for him, will you let me be?"

Her voice was tight as she responded, "Of course, darling. I merely urge you to give him a chance."

"Alright." Bile rose in my throat. "I'll go meet the son of the Kings."


	4. Chapter 3 - Ghosts

**.:Chapter 3 - Ghosts:.**

The streetcar pulled up to a three story, red brick building consisting of zero windows, two revolving glass doors framed in gold, and four marble pillars erected at the top of the foyer steps. Rochester Liberty Bank was packed with people. Groups of men and women congregated throughout the small courtyard, impatient to get inside to handle their savings, to salvage what they had. Across the street, protesters marched with their signs demanding banking regulations and a solution for unfair unemployment. Times were tough, and they didn't appear to be getting better any time soon. Which, unfortunately, was true. It would get much worse before it began to get better.

I hurriedly maneuvered my way inside and up the stairwell leading to the offices. My father's was empty when I arrived, and I smirked.

 _I'll just leave this right here_ , I thought, gently placing his 'forgotten' lunch upon his desk. Now, I could sneak right back out of this godforsaken, fire-hazard of a place without having to socialize with anybody. I strolled triumphantly back down the hall toward the lobby. My mission was accomplished, and my parents' mission failed. It was perfect.

Before I reached the lobby steps, however, my father's voice boomed from my right.

"Rosalie!"

I froze, cursing.

There was a moment I deliberated making a run for it, but I decided to accept my fate with my dignity still intact. I turned and waved at my father with a smile so forced my cheeks hurt. Beside him was a tall, wolfish man I liked to refer to as the father of Satan himself - Royce King the First.

Approaching, my father kissed my cheek and proudly introduced me to who he hoped would be my father-in-law.

"Roy, you know my Rose from photographs," my father said.

Mr. King smiled politely as he appraised me. He carried a sharp look in his steel eyes that was similar to his monster of a son. Why were men so disgustingly prone to be obliviously filthy?

"Miss Hale, of course. A pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine," I responded, carefully polite. I wished any other man was my father's boss. But, of course, there was nothing I could do about that.

"Your pictures do you no justice - you're beautiful. Clearly you got your mother's genes."

The two men laughed, my father agreeing it definitely wasn't from him. It was strange, as my stern father was hardly a man of jokes.

"You know," Mr. King continued. "I have a son your age. He is actually taking over the business in a few years." The man's pride was so thick I wanted to gag. "Let me introduce you," he said, and turned before I could respond. "Royce!"

Some moments in one's life simply could not be prepared for, no matter how many times you played it out in your head beforehand, or how often you chanted ' _you can do this_ ' in your mind during a 20-minute bus ride across town. Seeing the face of my nightmares live in the flesh once again, mere inches from me, was one of those moments.

Royce's tall, expensively-clad frame rounded into the hall, his flaxen hair slicked back and neat, and his handsome face lit a torch in my veins. It wasn't a good kind. Red blurred my vision. As his beady eyes met mine and widened in awed attraction, I imagined sticking my manicured nails deep in those sockets and making sure he never enjoyed the beauty of me again.

"Royce, let me introduce you to Mr. Hale's daughter - Rosalie."

Royce smiled, charming and graceful and utterly terrifying. I never wanted him in the history of this new life I was trying to make for myself. He bowed his head; extended his hand. I stared at it. Just because he was a son of a king, that did not make him a prince. I had thought it did once, and my foolish innocence had been ripped away.

Father cleared his throat. His eyes shone with implication: I was not to embarrass him.

Inwardly sighing, cringing, fighting a destructive rage...I placed my hand, once again, in Royce's.

He must have taken my hesitation as shyness. The cretin.

"Such a pleasure it is to meet you, Rosalie," he said gently, tapping his grimy lips to the back of my hand. Where was this gentleness the night of...

I pulled my palm back, a little too forcefully, and hid my balled fists behind my back, forcing another smile. I was beginning to see that my life in Rochester was one of absolute bullshit.

For no reason other than the sake of my father's career, I responded, "Likewise."

 **OoOoOoO**

At the corner of Broadway and McKinley I opted for the crosswalk rather than the bus stop, skipping the streetcar home in lieu of walking. I needed to clear my head before facing my mother again. My hands hadn't stopped shaking since I left the bank and I realized how anxious I had actually been. The last ten minutes had unhinged the gate of emotions I had imprisoned for a long time. And, perhaps, my recently developed feelings of my human time weren't cushioning the onslaught.

I turned down the street that would lead me straight through the city, to my neighborhood. Although my footfalls bled into the crowd, I felt isolated from them. The sun had risen, and while the rest of the world saw our lives through a thick fog, I saw it as it was, in clarity. In high definition, 3-D, Imax.

I chuckled to myself; even in my head, it sounded sad. But I wasn't sad... I wasn't... Well, happy wasn't a word I would describe myself as, either.

The history of my time period had never appealed to me. Aside from music and entertainment, the world was more or less in chaos at any given point, and was unequivocally unfair. Sexism; segregation; tyranny across the globe... I hadn't thought much about the societal impact of my mortal life until I was back in it. There were no place for gender roles and stereotypes and such with the Cullens - everyone did their part of supporter or caretaker, regardless. I went to college multiple times, majoring in engineering, medicine, business... If my father only knew I could _run_ the Kings' bank - I didn't have to marry into it.

How was a woman like me supposed to utilize her skills in a time like this?

Where, in this world of simple minds stuffed in suffocating corsets and pretty dresses did I fit anymore?

The extravagance was extraordinary; yet, tainted with lies. Coated in pettiness and drama. Stained with misogyny, and ignorance, and with conflicts that haven't even begun to be addressed.

As I passed storefronts, I felt no pull to investigate further. No catch-of-my-eye. No temptation to spend my father's money on jewels and fabrics I might have otherwise done. Every window display lacked a certain appeal. I realized they simply were unimpressive. From suede gloves to wax mascara, from home-good mannequins vacuuming to electronic store greeters boasting about their latest hand-carved radios with optimum station performance, I realized these things simply were unremarkable. How could I possibly find anything from this time impressive?

A woman hurried by with a child's hand in each of her own, and I guessed that what I was sullen about wasn't the point. I did not come back to be impressed by movements I'd already seen. The point was my own life's direction. My personal life and it's happy ending. The point was that by the time colored television came around, and speed limits rose above 40 mph, and airliners roamed the skies like birds, my children would be around to enjoy them.

Why was I so worried?

My mind wandered backward, to a time less mortal, to a time not that long ago at all. My time with the Cullens. Because I had already been thinking about it. Already comparing and agonizing and wondering. I tried to block it out - I tried to block it all out. Their faces. Their voices. Everything. Without looking too deep, I let myself remember them now. Just the surface of them. What I had with them could not be replicated in this timeline. If I had the chance to turn them all human with me, I would. But I didn't have that option, and I knew they would understand. They were my sacrifice for this chance. That was why, for them, as much as for myself, I could not let my second chance fail. Even if I would never love any man the way I had loved Emmett Cullen.

I took a deep breath to steady my heart. Blinking away the tears forming without my permission, I gazed up at the corner-street convenient store I was stopped in front of. Ritz crackers; Hershey syrup; Gerber's baby food - just the beginning of their industrial journey. Beside a propped ad for train travel, was a map of Rochester. My focus wasn't on that, however; splayed out on a table stand were other state maps. Pennsylvania. Virginia. Ohio.

Tennessee.

 _Emmett..._

My mind suddenly reeled; my heart rate sped up.

Going back nearly 100 years - it wasn't Emmett Cullen I had saved that night in the mountains. It was Emmett McCarty. Unlike every other couple in the Cullen household, Emmett and I stood out because we were of the same generation; born the same year and raised in the same time. No, I might not know where I fit into this world, but I knew who I fit with, who I would always fit with.

Without sparing another thought, I entered the shop and headed for the maps with a newfound exhilaration. A giddy hope.

What was stopping me from traveling to Tennessee? I had the money; I had the resources. I also had the freedom. There was nothing in New York for me. This city would always be the home of the Kings. I refused to live my life in constant worry about running into them. Or of Royce, and the things he was capable of. And now that the cretin knew I existed, he would proceed with a courtship attempt. This time I would decline, but would he accept 'no' as an answer? Had he ever accepted that? He only ever wanted the best. And what Royce wanted, he got. Although I knew Emmett's hometown of Gatlinburg wasn't as luxurious as Rochester, I would welcome the sacrifice. I could exist there comfortably as long as I was with him. His own parents would undoubtedly love my addition to the family.

I just had to get there.

Shuffling through the maps, I found what I was looking for. Door bells chimed behind me as I placed my loot onto the counter for purchase.

"Planning a trip?"

My body jumped, almost spilling the contents of my bag. I spun around, nearly hitting the person who spoke. I wished I had. There Royce stood, assuming and vain - traits only some of us had the skill to pull off. He didn't even have the courtesy to step back and give me a moment of space.

"Jesus Christ," I grumbled, pressing my back farther into the edge of the counter until it hurt.

He raised an eyebrow at my curse, but grinned.

"I apologize for frightening you," he said. "I saw that you had missed the bus earlier and were walking. I wanted to make sure you got home safe. The city can be rowdy, and Rochester is full of unpredictable people."

An un-ladylike scoff was my response. I turned back to the counter as the cashier rang up what I wanted.

Royce wasn't deterred by my silence.

"Tennessee..." he read over my shoulder. I glared at him. "Gatlinburg, as well? I've never been there myself, but I can't imagine it holds anything special."

What a cretin.

The cashier bagged my items for me, and I thanked her before turning to face Royce.

"With all due respect," - except not really - "your opinion was unwanted." I smiled at his shock, then angled around him and headed for the door.

He followed me out.

"No offense was meant," he said, backtracking. "I was merely trying to make conversation."

"Also unwelcome," I replied, unimpressed. I moved faster, trying to lose him, but he kept up with ease.

This was ridiculous. I wasn't anticipating him stalking me. I supposed, in the previous timeline I had taken the bus home, giving him no excuse to talk to me any sooner than a note with a flower the following day. A wave of anxiety washed over me. Was I altering things in a way that would speed up the events of my last life?

No. This was a single event. I had control over this. No sadist like Fate or Destiny was going to ruin this for me.

I grabbed Royce's wrist and dragged him into the next alley - just inside it, on the edges, a step out of the crowd. The look on his face told me he thought my actions were a good sign.

"Listen closely," I told him, cold and clear. "I know what you see in me, but I am not interested. No matter what my father may say. You hold nothing of value to me - not your wealth, not your status, not your looks. I couldn't care less about what you have to say to me. I will never be yours. So, move on. Don't bother wasting the time of either of us."

Once again, I turned to go, but this time was yanked back by my upper arm. I stumbled, and Royce steadied me, before I pushed him away from me. It was his turn to catch his own fall.

"Don't. Touch. Me." I growled.

There was something sinister in his eyes when he looked back at me, like he would retaliate against my blatant hostility with his own. Before I could brace myself - or run into the crowd - the darkness was gone.

No, not gone. _Masked_.

Royce had always been this way. Mysterious in the worst kind of way. His true intentions always hidden.

He held his palms up in surrender and smiled through another forged apology.

"I understand what this is about," he laughed. "I'm sure you get this a lot. A woman like you has a line of men at her feet, after her heart, I'm sure. I don't know who the indecent man was who wronged you and blocked out your heart to us gentlemen, but I assure you, Rosalie, not all men would dare even think of doing anything but care for you."

 _I'd kill him._

It was unfortunate that it was a lot harder to get away with murder as a human. Unfortunate for the guilty, in any case. Perhaps I would simply castrate him, so he'd never have the chance to hurt any poor girl the way he'd hurt me.

The thought made me feel better.

"Your eyes are like violets..."

"Excuse me?"

"Your eyes," Royce gazed into them a little too intimately. "As gorgeous as violets. You truly are a rose, Rose."

Goosebumps rose on along my arms. This wasn't supposed to happen yet. It wasn't supposed to happen at all!

"You are right, Royce," I said through gritted teeth, securing my bags to my body and stepping away from him. "Some men _would_ only ever care for me. And that man is not here in Rochester."

His jaw clenched, angry through his confusion as to how I was not falling head over heels for his act.

"Goodbye, Royce," I finished before he could respond.

 _Forever._

Then I turned on my heel and ran, only slowing until I was sure I was lost in the crowd and too far gone for him to have followed me anyway.

 **OoOoOoO**

Highland Park was decorated in purples and pinks and oranges, and a sweet, floral aroma encased the entire hill. Chains of tulips hung from trees, while braided lilacs spiraled down streetlamps, and every other vendor in the park was selling bouquets of flowers that looked more like sunsets. Rochester was having their annual Lilac Festival. It was enchanting.

I strolled by the carts of hand-made trinkets with my family, trying to enjoy the night out with them. They were not aware of it yet, but this was the last outing I would accompany them on for a while. I couldn't tell them of my plan to travel to Gatlinburg. They would never understand, let alone allow it.

I also wasn't telling them I was borrowing some of their money, but I digressed.

"Look, dear, it's the Millers," my mother said, waving to a family I didn't recognize.

"How many is that now?" my father asked me. "Ten?"

I grinned. "Thirteen."

"Thirteen? Dear god, woman. Where do you have time to meet all these people?"

Mother lightly hit her teasing husband's arm and left him to greet her thirteenth group of friends in less than an hour. We all knew father enjoyed it as much as she did, so he really wasn't one to talk. It was the gossiping Father could do without. Well, so he wanted us to believe. I had my own belief that she was a form of spy, gathering intel for him about his professional rivals.

As I watched my mother saunter off, I pictured myself as her. It wasn't hard to do. If I hadn't been transformed into a whole other life, I most likely would have been just like her - a social star. I certainly loved the attention.

Would _have been like her?_ I thought, catching myself.

I _would_ be like her. Here and now. In this future. The past didn't exist; the past was the present. Why did I have to keep reminding myself of this?

Father steered us away from Mother's voice. "So, Rosalie," he started, in a way that had me instantly suspicious. "Roy's son seems captivated by you. He said the two of you had a good time when he escorted you home this afternoon."

"He what?" I demanded, my voice raising. Eyes turned to us and I spoke my next words softer. "Whatever story he gave you, Father, is a blatant fabrication. I respect his name, but I do not wish to see him again. Please, please say you understand."

By the look on his aging face, my father did not understand. I didn't think he wanted to.

"That is exactly what your mother told me you said," he grunted in reply. I gaped at him. My conversation with my mother when I finally made it home today was colorful as it was frustrating. Sometimes I didn't think my parents heard me at all.

"I urge you reconsider your standing, Rose. The Kings offer promise and prestige and..."

My attention on my father's words faded, like a camera panning out of focus, slow and gradual. Across a sea of lilacs, through the current of faces, two caught my attention. It was impossible to miss them, even if they didn't already stand out with their pale complexions and features too beautiful to be human and movements too graceful in the furor of the festival.

"Rosalie, are you hearing anything I am telling you?"

"Hmm? What?"

My father shook his head at me, rather disappointed. "Where is your head at?" he asked me.

It was a good question. It was likely tangled right up with my heart at the moment, having dropped straight into the pit of my stomach. The flowers beneath my feet suddenly became fascinating. I knew if I looked up- If I saw them again, my straining emotions wouldn't be able to take it-

"Ah, good evening, Doctor Cullen."

My world stilled.

"Good evening, Mr. Hale. Miss Hale."

Slowly, almost painfully, I pealed my gaze away from the floor. Eyes of honey peered kindly back at me. So familiar, yet so distant. They were the eyes of a man who had no idea who I was.

"Car- Dr. Cullen." I nodded in greeting. My stomach curled in on itself.

"Enjoying the festivities?" Carlisle wondered with a light smile. "It's a beautiful night."

"Indeed," my father answered. "The rest of my family is wandering around here somewhere. Are you here with yours, as well?"

Carlisle nodded. "Date Night with my wife, actually." His polite smile morphed into adoration as Esme appeared from the crowd with a bag in hand from one of the vendors. My curled insides leapt with a yearning so strong I was sure I was going to vomit. Why were human emotional reactions so aggravating?

Esme's smile was blindingly beautiful, just the way I remembered it. My father had to catch his breath, and I... Well, I had to force a smile onto a face that only wanted to cry. I didn't understand where these feelings were coming from. It wasn't a surprise to me that the Cullen family existed. Of course they existed! They wouldn't disappear simply because I would no longer be part of them.

"Are you feeling alright, dear?"

I blinked, realizing the question was directed at me. I had missed some things in the conversation. Esme and Carlisle were watching me with concern; my own father eyed me with annoyance. Confliction boiled within me and overflowed, submerging my mind with realizations I hadn't wished to fully recognize or face. In fact, I had been specifically avoiding them.

Carlisle and Esme. Two people who have been my family far longer than any normal human being could ever had had the chance to witness. I knew everything about them - their likes, their dislikes, their fears, their sins, their graces. They knew everything about me. Everything! And they loved me regardless.

No, they _had_ loved me. Had. Because they couldn't love someone, now, who they didn't know.

Somehow, my the hold on my chest tightened.

Okay. So, I missed them.

I admitted that I missed Carlisle's unparalleled kindness, and Esme's encompassing love. I missed Alice's wild enthusiasm, and Jasper friendship. I missed Bella's bizarre tastes, and Edward's unwavering loyalty. I missed caring for little Renesmee, and how she never had to see the bad in me.

And I missed _him_. I missed Emmett to the point of pain.

Deep in my heart, I had known all of this for a while. Because it was frustratingly difficult to move on while the ghosts of their faces congested my memories.

"Rosalie?" my father questioned.

"I'm sorry," I forced out of my lips. I tipped my head to Carlisle and Esme. "Please excuse me. I'm not feeling very well."

Quickly, I turned and walked away, leaving the heartfelt eyes of the people I loved behind me, where they should be. It was lucky Edward hadn't joined them tonight. What would have happened had he heard my thoughts? Some disastrous paradox?

I shook my head. It didn't matter. I sacrificed the family I loved beyond reason, the family I would die for, in order to find my happiness. It was not going to be in vain. My knowledge of the Cullens and the presence of the Kings was not going to stop me. Fate was not my scribe. I was going to go out and grab my happily ever after. And it was going to happen on the first train out of Rochester.

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 **Thank you so much for reviewing! I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :)**


	5. Chapter 4 - Gatlinburg

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Please continue letting me know what you think. :) Also, I apologize in advance for any historical inaccuracies. I do try.**

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 **.:Chapter 4 – Gatlinburg:.**

The Streamliner was cramped compared to 21st century travel. Even with a first-class seat the confinement was daunting. The air was stiff with tobacco, and the cushions scratched the back of my legs through my stockings. The window bumped with each dip of the track in an endless rattle that pounded inside my head. I rubbed my temples with my fingers and prayed I would survive. I had to remind myself that 77mph was the fastest I could reach Tennessee in this day and age. It was a six-hour trip from my last stop at Pittsburgh to Winchester, Virginia. I would have to search for an Inn to rest at for the night, before catching the first ride out of there to Johnson City. At least I would be in Tennessee then, and all I needed to endure would be a two-hour bus ride to Gatlinburg. A treacherous and tiresome journey. Any science fiction tales where the protagonist wished to travel back in time was ludicrous. Who would want such a downgrade?

My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my skirt.

I supposed I had wanted the downgrade… But I was from this time originally and should have stayed in it. It would be troublesome at first, but I knew it was they way of the world. This century was my home; not the 2000's.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep away the hours until I could freely search for Emmett.

By one'o'clock the next afternoon, I was in Gatlinburg. The place was a quaint mountain city with a southern tint to it, lined with multi-story cabins as shops and salons and markets, with a sprinkle of newer buildings built of brick. It was a city in-progress. And it was a town I'd have to get used to as home, because I had no plan to return to Rochester. Perhaps to visit my poor parents - although they'd be furious - and, of course, Vera and Henry. I hoped they wouldn't be too worried about me. In any case, Tennessee was beautiful in its own right, with its dirt-clad concrete surrounded by a plethora of green trees weaving up and beyond hilltops higher than skyscrapers.

As pretty as sightseeing surprisingly was in this place, the first thing I had to do was find a place to stay for a while. I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach as I observed my surroundings. I knew I was unconsciously searching the face of every man I passed for a specific set of dimples, but I could not let myself become distracted. It wasn't time yet to find him. I had to get settled if I wanted to survive out here.

Two hours and several awkward conversations later, I found myself at the doorstep of a rundown Inn that was now used as a boarding house for single women. The sign above the door read 'Saint Maria's Boarding Home'. The front door creaked as I opened it, as did each step on the planks covering the floor. Inside, the air was cool, and scented in lavender. An elderly woman with a stern mouth and eyes of steel greeted me. Her name was Evelyn and she was the landlady for the home. The way she looked me over - twice - was a testament to how extraordinarily I stood out. Surely, I didn't appear to need cheap living arrangements.

My explanation was simply enough: Born to a middle-class family, I lost them all in a car wreck. As the only child I inherited all they owned, which as far as this woman was concerned, wasn't a lot in the long run. I needed a place to live until I was financially ready to move on. It was unfortunate that, as a woman, the idea of simply being able to afford a house of my own - inheritance or not - was so unlikely that nobody batted an eyelash about me having to live in a place like this. I'd bet all I had that there were a lot of girls here with similar stories to the one I conjured up. Women who did not know how to be independent simply because it was not how they were taught.

"We have two rooms available, but they are our nicer ones," Evelyn said. She took a moment to stare hardly at me. I stared right back, waiting. "Therefore, their price a month is higher, and there is no room for negotiation. Not in this economy. You understand."

The woman was lying. In an economy as desperate as this, there was always room for negotiation. She was playing to the advantage of knowing I just inherited a whole family's worth of income. I knew this, because I would have done the same.

Luckily for us both, I didn't mind.

"I'll take one," I told her.

"You will have to pay the first month's rent upfront," she added.

"I can pay you the first two month's rent upfront," I replied, pulling a wad of cash from my bag.

Her eyes widened, then carefully steadied. She took the money quickly, stashing it in her dress's pocket. "Welcome to Saint Maria's."

 **OoOoOoO**

Since I was set for at least four months at the boarding house, including what I needed for food and clothing and other hygienic necessities, I figured I could postpone job searching for a few days, as the very least. There were not many positions available, of course; might as well allow those who actually needed the income to have them.

After unpacking, I donned a clean outfit, fixed loose strands of my hair, and headed out for the town. The sun was already setting. Evelyn gave me a rundown of the hotspots for entertainment, food, and the transit to get there. Apparently, my monetary exuberance motivated her hospitality.

Downtown Gatlinburg held a different buzz than its daytime counterpart in the city, to my surprise. It was bustling with nightlife. For the small mountain town it was here in the 1930's, the citizens sure enjoyed their nights off. Emmett's accountance of his party lifestyle in his human days suddenly made sense. I bit my lip, wondering where to even start my search for my mate. I stuck out like a sore thumb in this town. Maybe he would simply...see me. Take the bait of my glamorous appearance and be reeled right into my awaiting hands. Which would be nice, but perhaps not plausible. What were the chances, anyway, of simply "running into him"? One in a thousand, or something. But what if I was the one who saw him? Then what?

Did I "accidentally" bump into him and hope he would take the bait?

Did I walk right up, pull an Alice and tell him he's kept me waiting a long time? Somehow, I didn't see Emmett being as charming as Jasper in that situation. Not that Emmett didn't carry his own cache of charm. He simply tended to be more direct and personable than the hackneyed idea of gentlemanly. Emmett was so much a boy in a man's body in some ways; immature at times, but unequivocally protective and affectionate. He didn't play the games society had created. There was no room in him for pettiness, and schemes, and lies. Life was so much better to him when he could simply feel exactly how it made him feel. Idle chatter bored him, and friendships based on favors held no appeal. Social status meant nothing. For Emmett, the world was black and white. Right and wrong were drawn in obvious lines. _Be honorable_ , he would say, _but have fun_.

That was why I loved him. And that was why he was perfect for me.

Now that I had allowed myself to think about him, rather than suppressing those memories, I found myself smiling to myself a lot. He was like the northern star of my thoughts. Everything I was doing was to find him, and his memory inside of me was leading the way. It was ridiculously sentimental, so I let the line of thinking fade as I focused on the street ahead of me.

Like the main part of town, down here in the entertainment district the majority of building were old wood in need of renovations, yet carried that rustic aesthetic that nobody cared about in this time, but would become fashionable in later decades. Billows of smoke cascaded out of every open door in town. The air was thick with tobacco. Music and laughter reverberated through the streets. Groups hurried about, eager for their next drink. Gatlinburg might have been a farm community less populous than Rochester, but they loved their alcohol. If anything was the cause of Prohibition's massive failure, it was probably this city alone. Even the law enforcement couldn't care less about the particular amendment banning alcoholic beverages to be sold, as I literally watched two officers pour drinks for each other as the sun dipped below the Smoky Mountains and their shift hours ended.

Unfortunately, alcohol was never something I enjoyed during my first round as a human; plus, it was under the influence of such a bitter drink that made men like Royce unstable and more vile than when they were sober. Alcohol held no appeal to me. I ended up strolling along the main line of bars three times before admitting I had to go inside them if I really wanted to find Emmett.

I grudgingly followed an already-tipsy, middle-aged couple into the first building. The stench made me wrinkle my nose. I didn't stay long; at first look I spotted older couples and friends seated at booths, cackling at jokes that weren't funny, while elderly men sat at the bar sulking in their liquor. Light western music emanated from the radio at the edge of the counter. Not a lively place this one was. And Emmett was as lively as they came.

Next door was a place named _The Juice Joint_. It was the complete opposite of its neighbor, and I hardly wanted to move beyond the threshold. Bodies formed inconvenient walls of sweat and heat. As cool as the night air was, it was in no way reaching this rowdy crowd of linedancers and pool-players. It was a room like this I knew the inventor of air conditioning was currently suffocating in. There was no way I could find Emmett in here, even if it was a place he'd be. I could only hope he wasn't here.

Moving down the line, I was surprised by the variety of people here. More than Rochester, which was so segregated my family might as well live above the clouds; their heads certainly did. Here in Gatlinburg, classes mixed, races gradually intertwined, joining together to celebrate the one thing they could all agree on: alcohol.

Eyes followed me everywhere, gazes of both lust and envy. Any New Yorker would have stirred curiosity in an exotic sort of way; as Rosalie Hale, I brought a whole new level of alluring to these people. Twice I was asked to dance at the _Twilite Lounge_ \- a simple place targeting a younger generation of party-goers - and countless men at a place called _The RumBar_ had offered to buy me drinks, or had taken the initiative to bring me ones they'd already bought, only to be declined. The cycle continued until I had wandered over to and entered each and every god-for-saken club on this street. And not one of those men was the one person I would have ultimately accepted advances from.

As the mayhem died down in the later hours, and Emmett remained unaccounted for, I began to sink with a plight of despair.

 _What if he didn't exist in this timeline?_

No. One night of defeat meant nothing.

I reached the bus stop and realized with a sinking feeling that nobody else was around. I checked the time stamps on the brochure Evelyn had given to me earlier. Then I checked the pocket watch I'd stolen from my mother before I left Rochester. I missed the last bus by fifteen minutes. _Could this night get any worse?_

Pulling out my map, I memorized the streets and turns back to Saint Maria's. Then I grumbled in contempt being forced to walk, in the cold, in the dark. Streets weren't a lit up as they would be in a few decades. Fortunately, what I couldn't see wasn't able to see me, either. I kept a diligent pace home, remaining in the darkest shadows as much as possible. Once outside of Downtown's borders, there was nobody on the streets except me. A few windows lining old-fashioned apartment complexes had lights illuminating their drapes, indicating not everyone had laid down for the night. But silence was still my companion the whole trip. That was why, when a soft snap of a branch breaking sounded to my left, my blood began to pump a faster rhythm.

There was nothing beyond the forest ridge that I could see, though. Realizing I had stopped walking and braced for combat in a very vampiric way, I straightened and continued my pace home, straining my ears for any sound that indicated I was being followed.

Of course, there was nothing.

Whatever broke that branch several steps back had to have been an animal; humans were not that quiet. What was the wildlife like out here? It was the wilderness, after all. Saint Maria's was located on the edges of the city. Were there animals that roamed the streets at night that were dangerous to us? I should have done more research.

Or maybe, I thought, irked and tired, it was a harmless rabbit and I was being paranoid.

Then a small voice in the back of my head wondered if I wasn't.

Relief filled me when Saint Maria's came into view. I picked up my pace, my instincts running rampant.

I had one more street to cross when a man, silent and sinister, stepped from the ridge of the forest and stopped a few feet in front of me. He turned so he met me eye-to-eye. His were so dark they only looked like shadows. I didn't dare move, paralyzed by an underlying prod in the back of my mind that told me I should have been more careful, while my fight-or-flight instinct demanded I assess the situation and act accordingly.

Before I had any solid information of what I could use in my limited surroundings to my advantage in a fight, the man did something that chilled my blood to the bone.

He crouched down.

And then he smiled.

But it wasn't a smile, I knew. It was a display of his arsenal - sharp teeth ready for their next meal.

I never had the chance to scream, or beg, or run, or realize how stupid I had to be to forget the real threat of walking home alone in a dark, isolated town like this. The vampire lunged.

At first, it was like I could actually see him moving toward me, a shadow in the wind, soaring in slow motion. And a part of me felt sick knowing this was the end, the ending of it all, just like that, despite everything. Then, as quickly as he had vanished into the air, another shadow intertwined with his. A thunderous cracking burst through the night. I covered my ears, a scream finally catching up and erupting from my throat, high and shrill and terrified. I dove onto the concrete. The trees swayed around me. The ground kept up a constant stream of vibrations fitting for a small earthquake. I tried to relax my breathing, to focus past the adrenaline. I swept my gaze around me. The street was empty. The vampire was gone.

Without his meal.

That didn't make sense. I should be dead right now. Dinner to the very creature I once was. Like the species as a whole was determined to haunt me. What were the odds?

Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and wobbled to my feet. I stared into the shrubs where the shadows had vanished. The woods were disturbed, uprooted, still shaking. Something was going on. It wasn't over yet.

I should be running, yet my curiosity was binding. There had to be another vampire in order to stop the first one. But there were so many people around that could easily be taken without notice, even from their own homes; fighting over me seemed implausible.

Just then, my ears picked up a slight whining. Like a bat's midnight screech. Or nails on a distant chalkboard. Or... Or the brutal tear of skin so hard it put diamonds to shame.

Did I really want to stick around to see who won?

 _Not at all._

For all that panicking, as I took the first step, preparing for a marathonal sprint back to Saint Maria's, the winner returned. They stepped, again, in my path. Unlike last time, staring back at me was a small girl with spiky black hair and eyes the color of the sun.

" _Alice_?" I breathed. My heart leapt as my body went into another form of shock in less than two minutes.

My whimsical once-sister tilted her head at me, speculative. "See, the thing I have a problem understanding," she said, in her high-pitched timbre that I remembered so fondly, "is I only know you in snippets up here." She tapped her temple with her finger, then pointed it at me. "How, exactly, do _you_ know me?"

Alice was having visions of me? Even now?

"You know the future?" she suddenly murmured, loud enough for me to catch.

"What? I never said-"

"But you will." She smiled her signature white, toothy grin.

"Right," I sighed. I didn't know what to say, where to begin. "Alice..."

"I don't know why I have been seeing you," Alice answered before I could even ask the question. "You've been popping up in snippets. But even from the beginning, I remembered you."

"Remembered me?"

She nodded. "From one of my very first visions in this life - visions of my family." She cocked her head to her other side, contemplative now. "Even though they don't really know I'm coming... But I know they'll be thrilled."

My carefree response was more out of comfortable-habit than present-logic. "More like terrified," I tittered.

Alice frowned. "It isn't as fun if you can see the future, too."

"I can't," I said. "Or maybe I can. I don't know."

Alice rose a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. Her pale skin shimmered in the moonlight, a blinding contrast beneath her sable hair color. Her presence stirred at my emotions in my already exhausted body. Seeing her dainty figure, wild hair fanned around her petite face, made a part of me want to bound to her and proclaim how much I missed her as confidante. But a more significant part of me, the logical part, was worried about why Alice was still seeing my future when it should have no longer intertwined with her own.

"You aren't happy to see me," Alice suddenly said, visibly pouting. "In some visions of this moment I had, you had hugged me after I saved you. I was hoping for that."

"Oh, Alice, I am happy to see you. I just don't understand."

Her shoulders lifted, light and carefree. "Neither do I. However, I am still glad I saved you."

Life was so simple through the eyes of Alice. Then a thought struck me.

"Wait. You said you remembered me from the vision with Carlisle." She seemed surprised I knew his name. "How was it any different when you saw me again?"

"Well, the main difference was you were human. I don't get the best reception with human futures, but I saw you planning a trip to Tennessee, and then that rogue vampire attacking you. Why you weren't with Carlisle, I didn't know. But I did know you were destined to be my sister, so I figured I was seeing you for a reason. And I certainly wasn't going to let you die either way."

 _Destined_ to be her sister? The word frightened me in a way I didn't fully understand.

"Do you still see me as one of you?" I decided to ask, hesitant.

Alice stared sadly back at me. "Not really," she said. "Which is a shame, because we would have been great friends. Despite your stubbornness."

I scoffed at her as my face softened. "And yours," I retaliated.

Her carillon laugh filled the quiet street. "See? Great friends!"

My body tensed back up, and I sighed. "But, Alice, how can you be seeing me now? I shouldn't even know you in this timeline."

The word 'timeline' piqued her interest. Knowing her as well as I did, I could already tell she was envisioning what I was about to say; yet, I said it out loud anyway. I explained everything - from what Royce did to me in the past, to a quick rendering of our misfortune with the Volturi, to my encounter with the witch. Alice didn't seem to react to any of it, but I knew my human perception was obscure at best when reading vampire mannerisms. After I was done telling my story, Alice placed her palm against her chest and _awww_ 'd.

"Edward finds his mate?" she murmured in pleasant surprise, like this news warmed her heart more than puppies. My eyes have never rolled so far back into my head.

"Yes, Alice, he does."

She bounced in place a moment, clearly ecstatic for her future best friend, then finally came back down to Earth and placed her hands on her tiny hip while her sunflower eyes glimmered brighter than the stars.

"Apparently, I have more to look forward to than I thought," she said. "But _you_ \- you have come here for your own happily ever after, one that's different from mine, I guess." She silently appraised me for a moment. I tried to decipher the sudden change in her eyes. Beyond the eagerness for what was to come, there was grief. A loss that swirled inside her that she mourned. "I may not ever get to truly experience it, but I always knew you were meant to be my sister. I'm going to miss you, Rosalie. And Emmett, too." Her smile dropped an inch, and my heart tightened within my chest.

I should not feel guilty - not for my own happiness. Besides, Alice understood, just as I knew she would.

"I guess my job here was to help you," she continued. "So, try to avoid this ridge of woods this late at night, would you? It reeks of wanderers."

Involuntary shivers raked up my body. "Of course."

"Good! Now I'll take you the rest of the way home, and then I'll leave you to it. There's not much else I can do for you. I have to meet somebody..." She trailed off, gazing to the northeast. I could only imagine she was picturing a small diner in Philadelphia.

"Not until 1948, actually," I said.

Alice's head swung back to me, her eyes wide. "19 _48!_?" she all but shrieked.

"It will be well worth the wait, Alice," I assured her, rubbing my ears. "Of course, I'm sure you already know that."

She thought about it for a second, then smirked at me, and before I knew what was happening, a tiny tornado swept me into its arms and placed me on Saint Maria's doorstep. When I was safely on the ground again, I had to grab onto wall to steady my unbalanced foot placement.

"Jesus, Alice," I muttered, catching my breath. A giggle was her only response.

Then she said, "Good luck, Rosalie. I'll always be rooting for you." She started to turn to leave, and my stomach sank.

"Alice?" I said, before she could disappear on me. This time forever.

A second of silence passed between us, and then I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, hugging tightly a body that never used to be this cold to me, because I knew it would be the last time. She wasn't Jasper, but I hoped she could feel the gratitude I had for her, for all the Cullens. Because I never had the chance to explain to them what I was doing before it happened. Nor did I say goodbye.

Tears welled in my eyes. My memories were constantly doing this to me, reminding me of the sacrifices I decided were worth the cause. It wasn't until Alice's cold fingers brushed my cheek did I realize my tears had fallen.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She beamed at me, and then, as quickly as she had appeared, Alice was gone.

That night, my dreams sent me back in time to the days of thunderous baseball games and fast cars. I woke up to a deep pit of nostalgia that was getting harder and harder to climb out of.

Then I spotted something on my dresser that wasn't there the night before. A pale pink slip of paper with a cursive scrawl etched in its center.

 _Here's for being my sister, no matter what universe._

Beneath it was an address. The address of the McCarty's.

"Oh, Alice," I breathed. "Thank you."


	6. Chapter 5 - The McCarty's

**Hey, readers! If you're still out there... Sorry for the time gap between updates. Busy months for me. But here it finally is! I hope you continue to enjoy the story and tell me what you think :)**

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 **.:Chapter 5 - The McCarty's:.**

The McCarty family owned a tiny animal farm with a two-story cabin located in the outskirts of Gatlinburg, surrounded by brush fields and trees on all sides. It was one of those trees where I hid now, anxious and fidgety. I'd been here for an hour already, and my heart wouldn't slow down.

The problem was, I had no plan.

Who was I, a random stranger, to walk up those porch steps, knock on the door, and inquire about Emmett? The man himself didn't even know who I was. I was plagued by trepidation; this irrational fear that Emmett wouldn't love me this time. But why - why wouldn't he? Because he wasn't limited to a world of immortals? Because I hadn't saved him from a bear? Because human-Emmett wasn't ready to settle down with a single woman for the rest of his life? He was young and reckless and, unlike having the responsibilities of being a Cullen, he had no distractions from the entertainment. Not that Emmett wasn't capable of settling. He simply had to find someone worth it first. Without his perception of me as his guardian angel, was I worth it anymore?

I wished I could ask Alice what the best route was to take, but I was on my own. I had to accept I had no sisters anymore. And I couldn't just stand in the shadows all day.

The sound of a door opening captured my attention. I concealed myself further behind the wide trunk of the pine above their yard. I watched as a young girl exited the house, a head of bouncing black curls. She was followed by a man with a build that made my heart skip; however, just as soon as I got excited I realized I did not recognize the young man. He had the curls that clearly ran in the family, and although he was also tall, he wasn't as muscular as my Emmett. It had to be one of his brothers.

Last out of the house was a woman I _did_ recognize. Emmett had kept only one picture of her - black and white, and faded. Jacqueline McCarty - a strong, serious woman who never stopped working, even though Emmett had always tried to get her to relax.

The three got in the beat-up car at the side of their home and started up the dirt drive. I tucked myself out of view until the engine faded in the distance. This was edging into stalker territory, I was sure. A page right out of dear Edward's book. Is this what happened when you were in love with a human? It made you insane? Ugh.

I walked back to town as discreetly as I had left it. It was no use having Emmett's address if I did not have a plan in order. So that was what I needed to come up with.

Before I consciously realized where my feet were taking me, I found myself in front of a local diner. My stomach growled in appreciation, and I sighed. I'd been eating out more often than cooking my own meals, partly because of convenience and partly because...well...I hardly knew how to cook. We Hales had servants to prepare the meals for us, and when my mother prepared anything herself and involved me, she'd go on about how other did things that weren't up to her standards. Suffice to say, she wasn't the best teacher a daughter could have.

Finding a booth in the corner of the restaurant, I ordered my food, and made a note to purchase a cookbook when I had the chance. I refused a menu, knowing exactly what I wanted already. The waitress was the same one I had the last two times. She was young, pretty in an ordinary sort of way, and she always smiled at me like she both envied me and pitied my days of eating alone. I resented the latter myself.

The food was delicious, all things considered. This diner was popular for its quality, and once my stomach wasn't empty anymore I didn't mind as much that I was becoming a recurring customer here. It might even make me some friends. Now that I was human, I could afford to bond again... It was strange, though, that I might have forgotten how to do that. Vera, at least, had been my friend already; it was like starting where we left off. But making new friends? Friends who were human? What did I have in common with them? What topics could I discuss without knowing too much?

A crash of plates threw me out of my thoughts. My waitress stared sullenly at her feet where a tray of dishes laid in pieces.

The owner peered over from the register and sighed. "Again, Beth? Weren't you a house maid before coming here? You'd think you could handle a few plates." He motioned with a swipe of his finger for another waitress to come help clean up, as Beth, red-faced and contrite, stuttered an apology.

Did her manager really have to reprimand her in front of everybody? Honestly, she was so young, and a house maid wouldn't have to carry five full dishes at once...

The idea clicked into my brain faster than I could have hoped. If I was going to encroach on the McCarty family, I could easily snake my way in as a maid. It wasn't the sort of work I would generally settle for, but I had other priorities for the time being. I needed to get to Emmett. Hastily, I finished what was left on my plate and paid for the food, leaving the scene of Beth and her broken dishes behind me.

By the time the sun was blinking its last rays of light across the horizon, I found myself in front of the McCarty house once again, its rough timber exterior intimidating. This time I had braved the road and made it passed my hiding spot behind the widest of the oaks. I stood at the bottom of their splintering porch, listening to the sounds of plates and murmurings happening just beyond its walls. Nothing was distinct; just a static of voices. I couldn't tell if Emmett was home or not. There were two cars in the drive this time, instead of one, and it sounded like a full house. Risking it without _knowing_ , though... Going through with this plan would be pointless if Emmett still wasn't home.

Inwardly, I groaned. Then I took a deep breath, preparing to just get it over with. I wasn't going to peek in through the windows like a creep. If this didn't work, I would jut have to come up with something else-

"Are you planning to stay out here all night?"

My eyes widened; my breath hitched.

The voice I had been waiting to hear was finally here. He was here.

With a hammering heart, I slowly turned around. There he stood, just a few inches from me, cool wind caressing tendrils of his hair, his leonine body cloaked in cheap rags, and his eyes were blue and bright and burning with curiosity, and then with awe. I was much more than he was hoping to find tonight.

"Wow," he breathed, really looking at me now. "Um- You aren't from around here, are you?"

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. "What makes you say that?"

He smiled at my voice. "I would have remembered seeing you." His cheek dipped in his signature dimple and I swear I felt feather light, like my body was moments from disobeying the laws of gravity and floating beyond the clouds.

Damn this man for having a way with me I could never combat.

My face flushed, I racked my brain for words. "I just moved down here from New York. I'm looking for work."

"You need work?"

"I just moved," I reminded him. He must have also caught the challenge in my raised eyebrows. He backtracked.

"Not that you can't work," he amended, scratching the back of his head. "You just don't look desperate enough to come all the way to our home in the middle of goddamn nowhere."

Amused, I simply smiled at him. "Looks can be deceiving." There was a moment of silence, odd for him, but I might have distracted him with my smile. It wouldn't be the first time, except for this Emmett in particular. I decided to help him out with forming a sentence again. "So, Mister..." I hedged.

"Emmett," he stammered out, focusing again. I tried not to laugh.

"Mr. Emmett?"

His laugh was booming and nostalgic and made me want to be closer to him, but I held my ground. "Nah, Emmett McCarty. But you can call me Emmett. No need for formality. Miss..."

"Rosalie," I said. "Rosalie Hale."

"A fitting name," he murmured, flirty now. My lips thinned. It was cute of him to try to appease me, impress me. It was funny that he didn't realize he already had my heart.

Just then, the door opened behind me. Emmett and I looked up into the curious - then stern - eyes of his mother.

"Emmett. I thought I heard you laughing out here," she said, her eyes never leaving me.

Emmett bounced forward, extending an arm at me. "Ma, this is Miss Rosalie Hale. She's looking for work."

Mrs. McCarty's expression remained the same - unimpressed and uninterested. I smiled at her, hoping to appear unimposing. She didn't seem like a woman who appreciated her time being wasted.

"You're lookin' for work way out here?" she asked me, skeptical. "Ain't no place in the fields for a girl like you."

My hairs bristled, but I knew what she saw - a poised young woman in fashionable attire and a figure meant for nothing more than alluring suitors. I wasn't going to lie to myself and pretend that I belonged in the country; however, I was not about to simply surrender to the mother of the man I loved.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a house maid," I said. "Of course, if there is open work in the fields, by all means, I could do it as well as any man."

Emmett and Mrs. McCarty raised identical eyebrows at me - one amused, the other unconvinced.

"Where're you from, girl?" Mrs. McCarty asked.

"New York."

"She just moved down here and is in need of money," Emmett added. Was he trying to gain me sympathy? I doubted this woman even knew what that was. "She needs work. We gotta have something, right?"

Mrs. McCarty frowned at her youngest son, although it looked more like a grimace. "Boy, you know as well as I do we have all the workers we can afford."

"We don't have any workers," Emmett said.

"Exactly!" Mrs. McCarty turned back to me. "There's no work for you here, Miss Hale. I suggest you try someplace else, closer to town."

I kept my response short and polite. It was already expected she wouldn't give me a job, but I got what I came for. I glanced at Emmett, who was peering back at me like he didn't want me to leave.

"Well..." he stammered for a moment, then looked up at his mother. "Let me at least walk her to the bus stop. It's getting dark out here."

Mrs. McCarty grumbled something that sounded like 'Her own damn fault', but at least she didn't stop him as she went back inside and shut the door.

Emmett and I walked silently halfway up their yard before I broke the silence.

"Your mother is..." _Rude._ "...outspoken."

From my peripheral, I saw the corner of his lips rise. "She's somethin' alright. She likes you, though."

I balked, actually stopped in my tracks, forcing Emmett to do the same. "She _likes_ me?" I snorted. " _Really_?"

The blue of Emmett's eyes danced like a current at my reaction. "She's never let my brothers walk someone to the bus stop - and these were girls they actually did bring home. ' _If a girl can't protect herself as well as a man, she has no business wanderin' alone,_ '" he mimicked in a high voice.

We continued walking as I let that information sink in. His mother was an enigma of ferocity. I supposed I could be sometimes, too. Maybe, like me, she held a special place in her heart for someone as carefree as Emmett, even if he was an idiot most of the time. Especially in his younger years.

"What made you move to Tennessee?" he suddenly asked.

My heart pounded _. You,_ I thought.

Better not to go with that, though.

"My parents died in an accident. I took what I inherited and left to start someplace new. I don't know why I picked here. It was something different, and someplace a lot less expensive than Rochester."

He was quiet again, but only for a moment. "I'm sorry about your parents," he said. And then in true Emmett fashion, he immediately wondered, "Does that mean you're living alone out here? You have no other family?" This displeased him.

"I make do," I assured him. "Once I find work I will be more than well-off."

Emmett didn't look convinced. My old Emmett wouldn't have questioned it, wouldn't have bet against me. But, just as I worried, it was because of his perception of me as saving him, of giving him a second life, and a life with me. I battled a bear in front of his eyes. I carried him, easily; and I carried him for miles. He never worried about me in the same way Jasper and Edward and Carlisle worried about their wives. As protective as he naturally was, he had never doubted my own strength. This would not be so for the Emmett escorting me safely to the bus stop.

We arrived a few minutes later. The night air was turning chilly with the sun gone. I went ahead and took a seat on the poor excuse of a bench that resided here, pulling my jacket tighter against me. Emmett put his hands in his pockets as he watched me, curious. His feet shifted, uncertain. He was nervous now.

"Thank you," I finally said, and as our eyes met, I smiled my best smile at him. One I reserved only for him. His answering expression was blinding and beautiful, and his shoulders eased with the vanishing of his nerves.

"Of course," he responded, cheerful. "Make it home safe, alright?" He glanced at the dark forest surrounding us. I thought to brush off his remark, but I remembered exactly what dangers lurked there.

"You too," I said, even though I could see the light of his home just down the hill. Just as I expected, he laughed.

Headlights shined across our vision then, as the bus appeared from around the bend of the road. Emmett turned to leave, both of us muttering 'goodnight' as if the weight of the word finalized our separation. Was I imagining that, like me, he didn't sound like he wanted to part ways either?

I watched his back as he began walking away. There was a panic I suddenly felt, unsure if I'd see him again, even after all this.

"Oh, by the way," Emmett said, making my heart skip a beat. He grinned over his shoulder. "There's a club downtown that's in need of a waitress. It's called _Twilite Lounge_ and I... Well, I may or may not be a regular there."

The name was familiar. It was one of the places I had searched for Emmett that first night in Gatlinburg. I wondered for a moment if he could have been there that night...

It didn't matter. The fact was Emmett wanted to see me again, and this was his way of ensuring that. The air didn't feel so thick in my throat anymore.

"I will stop by first thing in the morning, then. Thank you again...Emmett."

"Anytime...Rosalie."


	7. Chapter 6 - The Twilite Lounge

. **:Chapter 6 - The Twilite Lounge:.**

 _The Twilite Lounge_ was one of the busiest places in Gatlinburg on a Friday night. With the alcohol that nobody seemed to care was prohibited, the layer of tobacco smoke blanketing the atmosphere, and the swinging music of the early 1930's played live by the club's hired band, it was clearly a place people felt they could come and let their inhibitions free. Perhaps if I hadn't been alive as long as I have, if I had lived through my twenties in a normal world without the supernatural involved, I might have also come to a place like this with my friends to feel free.

As it was, I was confined more than I felt free. The place was toxic. It was a sanctuary only for those who preferred drugs that inhibited common sense and excuses to be dealt for all their problems rather than solutions. It was my third night on the job, and already I was exhausted from the idiocy. Every where I turned there was a drunk man fumbling to buy me a drink, desperate to whisk me away from the eyes of the crowd, eager to use love in the same way they misused alcohol and tobacco. For the most part, I loved the attention; but the obnoxiously stupid and loud were starting to become irritating. It was ironic that the man I was actually after was one of those obnoxiously loud drunks...

Emmett's laughter boomed from the table he generally occupied with his friends. They were a rough bunch who all worked at the railroads with him, and they came in every night worn and worked. Their daytime labor didn't seem to put a damper on their smiles in the evening, however. The more I watched them, the more I realized Emmett had something to do with that. It was hard to be unhappy with his giant personality around. The thought put a lighter bounce in my step as I continued to tend the occupied tables I was catering to.

The work of a waitress was simple, with no challenge at all for someone of my intellectual caliber, but at least in a place like this the nights were never redundant. Perhaps, in the future, I could manage the place. It was still odd for me to think about the future as if I had a choice, as if there were actually opportunities I could pursue. And obviously, despite the time period, maybe even _in_ _spite_ of the time period, I would have a career. In fact, I would excel at it. Without the Hale inheritance should my family not accept my life choices, specifically the man I was determined to marry, then Emmett and I would need all the income we could get for our... _Our children_.

"You feelin' alrigh', Miss Hale?" my manager, Jerry, asked, lifting the flip-up counter top and coming behind the bar. I realized my hand was resting on my chest, over my beating heart, a gesture I sometimes did when the reality of my fantastical situation overwhelmed me. It was a bittersweet sort of pleasantness; excitement diluted with anxiety about all the things that could happen, both right and wrong.

"Yes," I responded, forcing my emotions in check. "Just tired."

"It's been a busy nigh'," he agreed in the sharp accent of someone raised further south. "We'll be closin' up soon. Go ahead an' finish up."

"Will do," I said, as Jerry collected empty glasses and took them to the kitchen. When I turned around, my heart jumped against my chest - Emmett stood on the other side of the counter, eyes bluer than the Tennessee sky. Stray black curls clung to the light sheen of party-induced sweat on his brow. And curse that god forsaken dimple on his right cheek.

"Enjoy the show tonight?" he asked, his smirk rising in sync with his flirtatious eyebrows.

"I don't know what you mean," I answered.

His smile grew. "You've been watching me all night."

My face grew hot. Rather than deny it, however, I countered him. "The only way you could come to that conclusion is if you have been watching me all night."

He laughed. "Every man in here has been watching you all night, babe. And I think you know exactly the effect you have on men."

At the nickname 'babe', I wondered how many times a human heart could flip in one night. Surely, it couldn't be healthy.

"I suppose," I said, giving him a slight smile, just enough to entice the gaze of his eyes and leave him wanting more. Behind him, I caught sight of his stumbling friends gathering their jackets and hats. The first night I was introduced to them, and every night prior, they were plenty vocal - at least to Emmett - about what a catch I was. "Your group of juveniles especially is quite vocal about their love for the opposite sex," I teased. "The one in the corner seems to be the only real gentlemen."

"Edmund?" he chuckled. "Is he not ogling you enough? Don't worry, you're not his type. Not enough-" He stopped himself, his tipsy mind stumbling over the word, but his hand already gestured below his waist. I raised a perfect eyebrow at him, and he sighed heavily, plopping his gigantic arms on the counter. His forehead adorably scrunched as he peered up at me through dark eyelashes. "Which is a secret," he whisper-groaned. His slip had somehow sobered him a little, as if his friend's trust was strong enough to get him right-minded again.

He was still looking up at me after I placed a glass of water in front of him. "You are a head of your time, Emmett McCarty," I said.

He shrugged, but his grin was back.

"Now, drink this." I nudged the water closer to him. "And get home safe."

"Get home safe? Who's gonna mess with me?"

He even admired his own biceps. The idiot.

Of course, for what it was worth, I could only think of one creature.

"Just do it," I said.

"Yes, Ma'am."

I turned, appeased, and discarded my apron onto its respective hook.

"Will you be working tomorrow?"

I bit back my smile. "With or without you here," I answered.

He laughed, before downing the entire glass of water, and I carried that laugh home with me, right into my dreams.

 **OoOoOoO**

The thing about Emmett was that he was predictable. He said exactly what was on his mind, in exactly the same format he thought it in. So, given the ardently amorous boy I knew him to be, it should not have surprised me when I came into work and saw him entertaining another female.

But it did surprise me, and I hated myself as much I hated him in this moment, hated that I let myself fall into the delusion that he was _my_ Emmett; my Emmett from nearly one hundred years of my life ago. An Emmett who knew what he wanted. An Emmett who found all he needed. An Emmett loyal only to me.

The Emmett before me had an arm around the girl's petite waist, and she was more than willing to let him guide her onto his lap. She shared her cigarette and they clinked their glasses together, as if their contact was something to celebrate. The glass currently in my own hand strained against the tightening of my grip. It should have been in pieces, a representation of _that_ _girl_ , but I wasn't as strong as I used to be.

Hell, maybe I wasn't as physically strong as I used to be; but I was still Rosalie Hale. How dare he ask if I was working tonight and then become preoccupied parading another woman on his lap to notice that I've been at my shift for twenty minutes now. Shining red hair or not, the girl wasn't even that pretty, even for Tennessee standards.

A small, rational part of my brain knew the girl was perfectly fine, and probably quite sweet; but that part could shut the hell up. I moved my whole life to this state for Emmett, started completely over, and had lived a life with him for over a century before. A bout of reincarnation or not, he _was_ going to notice me.

Just as I was about to strut over to Emmett's table and grab him by the ear, his friend Edmund slid into the stool in front of me.

"Evening, Rosalie," he greeted.

"Edmund," I managed through tense teeth, concealing the envious resentment I had stirring inside me.

"How is your shift going so far?" he asked. Edmund and I had only spoken briefly a couple times before; yet every time we got along well. I liked him best out of his circle of friends. I guessed, since he took the time to notice me when Emmett himself hadn't, he felt the same about me.

"A little loud; a little obnoxious," I answered. "Business as usual."

Edmund laughed, light but gruff. It was enough distraction to pluck some of the envious hostility from my thoughts, even for a moment. I realized Edmund wasn't that bad on the eyes, either. He had a body built like Emmett's, although slightly slimmer, and a boyish face that made him appear as kind as he was. If times were a little more tolerant, he'd have snatched up a gem of a man by now.

Ever polite, I asked how his day had treated him, though my mind could hardly focus on his answer. After a moment of me pretending to fix the knot of my apron, nodding to whatever story he was telling, Edmund cleared his throat and said, "He's been talking about you all night, you know?"

I froze.

Edmund sipped his drink, eyes laughing beyond the rim of the glass.

I feigned oblivious. "Who? Emmett? Oh, yes, I can see I am well thought of back there."

"The guys were getting annoyed," Edmund said with a chuckle, not believing my act for an instant. Who did he think he was - Jasper? "They are nothing if not problem solvers. And, yeah, Emmett isn't the hardest guy to distract." He gestured with his head to Emmett and his pretty redhead friend who had, apparently, been thrown at him by his buddies. My heart tightened. I forced my eyes away from the two lovebirds and tilted my head speculatively at Edmund.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I've known Emmett my whole life. We grew up together. If you hadn't already noticed, he's a pretty happy guy. So it's really saying something that I've never seen him as happy as when he's talking with you."

Unable to keep his gaze as his words processed in my head, I glanced back at the man in question. My cheeks were warm, and my heart even warmer, and somehow the mere thought of someone who has known the Emmett in this universe longer than I have known him, and telling me that he's happy with me, makes the small inconveniences suddenly irrelevant. Human relationships always seemed to be prone to mishaps and distractions and misunderstandings and timidness in love; if I had to battle through such things in order to be human with Emmett, then it was a fight I intended to win.

"You know," Edmund continued when I remained quiet, "you could have any guy in here." He gestured around us, many men who were, indeed, stealing lustrous looks in my direction. Edmund shifted, glancing back at his best friend. "And yet, you pick that one?"

We both watched as Emmett took a swig of his beer, half of it missing his mouth completely.

"I've asked myself that same question," I sighed.

Edmund considered me for a moment, then smiled, genuinely sweet. Because, despite our conversation, he must have known as well as I did that it was quite clear why I found myself enticed with Emmett. The fascination was unquestionable; the desire was absolute. Someone like me, who held myself at a distance, who built up walls and stubbornly guarded them in self preservation, who all the while attempted to tame a passionate current beneath the surface, a battle between who I was versus who I wanted people to think I was... Someone like me needed someone as open and carefree and optimistic as Emmett. The absence of his laugh was darkening; the presence of his touch was everything that was warm in this cold world.

Right as I thought I had my emotional reasoning under control, Pretty Redhead suddenly had her lips on Emmett's ear and my feet were moving on their own accord. Edmund called my name, but I barely heard it from the blood boiling in my veins with each movement of those girl's lips. I refused to stand around all night watching this catastrophe. I was in this town solely for Emmett, and I would be damned if I let his friends push some other woman into his arms, a harmless evening fling or not.

My heels clicked loudly in the bar as the music transitioned, a signature tune to my mood. The table of men quieted as I approached, and the moment Emmett saw me, his eyes lit up. It was too bad I wasn't here to add to his entertainment. I shoved the two glasses of liquor away from him and the girl, and tapped the cigarette from Emmett's fingers. It tumbled to the floor.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"All this tobacco," I said, waving clouds of smoke out of my face, "will end up giving you lung cancer."

He laughed. "Says who?"

"What did I tell ya', Em?," one of his friends chortled - Arnold or Arthur or some name I was too annoyed to think of right now. "Northerners and their radical Progressivism."

They all laughed this time, stupid and drunk, including Miss Redhead. I bristled.

"I am surprised your feeble mind could even get out the word Progressivism, let alone use it in a sentence." I slow clapped. "Well done."

Emmett's laugh rose above the rest. Pretty Redhead stumbled out of his lap as he leaned forward. Blue on blue, my eyes focused on his, daring them to look at the loss of his lap-warmer while they had me right in front of them.

"Ah, I like you, Rose-a-lee. You know that?"

Only Emmett could make drunk look cute, even as angry as I was. Not that I was about to tell that to him.

He then dropped his voice so only I could hear, and said, "Especially when you're jealous."

"Jealous?" I laughed. "Of your lung cancer?"

He ignored me and stood up, still smiling, big and ridiculous and immorally breathtaking.

Edmund appeared, then, eagerly challenging his buddies to a team Pool match. He left Emmett out of it, for which I appreciatively noted. Emmett didn't even seem to notice; nor did he realize Pretty Redhead had attached herself to another man's arm already. My body lost some of it's flame, cooled; the threat was gone.

For now.

Competing with other women was not something I had anticipated. Nor had I considered the prospect of losing. By all accounts, however, I certainly hadn't yet lost tonight.

"Rose-a-lee," Emmett was suddenly closer to my side, swinging an arm gently around my shoulders. The contact was electric. "Although you make jealous look extremely attractive, I'll let you in on a secret. Just between us, yeah?" He dipped his head closer. His warm breath tickled my cheek. "Nobody on this planet holds a candle to you."

He was too seductive for his own good. I tried to distract myself.

"Your breath wreaks of tobacco," I replied, pushing him away. My hand, however, never left his sculpted chest. I held him in place. The heat of his skin seeped through the fabric of his shirt, stinging my palm. "Do me a favor and stop smoking."

He gazed at me intently, like he was contemplating it. Already, he would consider doing anything I asked him to. Maybe I had my hooks far deeper in him than I thought.

But, of course, society still had its hold on him.

"Everyone smokes, Rose." He chuckled. "It's in the air. A good puff eases all your troubles."

"It's disgusting, and it will kill you. It solves nothing."

"I don't know where you're getting these facts from. What do people do in New York for fun-"

"Forget it," I said, eyeing the pool table where his friends were throwing down cash. Smirking, I realized I had the advantage of knowing Emmett better than he could possibly comprehend. There were some things he couldn't resist...

"How would you like to make a bet, Emmett McCarty?" I asked, grinning at him now.

His eyebrows raised. He wobbled, intoxicated as could be. "You gamble?" His skepticism was evident; but so was his pleased surprise.

"It was a 'yes' or a 'no' question," I answered.

"What's the bet?" he wondered.

He was already down with it, but I humored him. "Play a game of pool with me at the end of my shift. If I win, you quit smoking."

"And if I win?"

"Anything you want."

" _Anything_?"

I didn't need to be Edward to know how dirty Emmett's thoughts were right now. He even seemed to sober up a bit, as if he was determined to bring his fantasies to life over a game of pool. I tried not to let him see how amused I was. Was he really so confident as to believe he had his own hooks so deep in _me_ that I would do _anything_?

He didn't wait for me to reply before he accepted my bet.

His confidence made me waver. It wasn't that I was afraid to lose. It was something... something I couldn't remember feeling for a very long time. Insecure, I realized. Was Emmett's confidence simply due to his strong personality? Or was it a reflection of his thoughts about me? Did he see me as simple, as easy? Too beautiful to be anyone but a whore?

No. Of course not. What was I thinking? Human or not, this was still Emmett. For all intents and purposes, he had helped me find a job, and people in this time hardly supported employment for women, let alone assisted them in their job search. To be fair, that didn't mean he _didn't_ think I was easy to seduce. And, in certain regards, he was right; I saw him as my husband of many, many years. He was the only man on this god forsaken earth who could get me into bed armed only with a smile. A respectable man or not, I was suddenly worried. Worried about what exactly this Emmett saw when he looked at me. Worried about how much of Rosalie Hale did he actually want.

"If I win," Emmett suddenly said, smirking. I braced myself. "If I win, you go on a date with me."

My body stiffened in shock, my jaw falling ajar slightly, and I knew by the way his smile widened that he saw how surprised I was, but I could not find the will in me to compose myself. Out of everything he could have asked for, I was not expecting him to ask me out on a date. A _proper_ date. It was like he read all my worries straight out of my head and decided to Grand Slam them away. The incredulous relief in my body made me light headed.

Emmett was still waiting for me to respond, leaning slightly closer as if checking if I was still present.

I cleared my throat, and straightened, smoothing my apron with the palms of my hands. "If that's what you want." Before I could give him a chance to say it was, I added. "But you will have to win first."

I threw his own smirk back in his face and turned on my heel. I put a little extra swing in my hips as I went back to work. He'd be watching.

And together we would be watching the clock.

 **OoOoOoO**

Emmett egged his friends on during their game for the rest of my shift. Once in while, when I could afford to be distracted from the crowd of customers, I would see his eyes on me. He grinned every time I caught him staring, never one who was easily embarrassed, even sober. Edmund was graciously flooding him with glasses of water between his alcohol. At one point during the night, Edmund had even come over just to wink at me. It had made me laugh for the first time tonight, and I realized I needed it. The tension in my shoulders had been strenuous. It was like I had lost the first seventeen years of practice of being a human this time around.

Finally, though, the hand of the clock made it to its destination, and when my apron was in its proper place, I turned to find Emmett already ready for me at the furthest Billiards table, leaning against the wall, cue stick erect in front of him, eyes so bright I could see the blue of his irises from behind the bar. I shook my head at him, amused.

"You really plan on winning, don't you?" I asked, playful as I only was when I was alone with him.

"I really plan on taking you on a date," he replied, sending a fluttering sensation through my stomach. Surely, he did this to me on purpose. The man had to know.

I picked a cue stick to my liking, chalked the cushioned tip, and slowly lifted my eyes to the ones I knew were watching me. Together, we grinned.

He gestured toward the set-up of fifteen balls on green felt. "Ladies first."

The game itself might have lasted fifteen minutes. It was our bantering that expanded that time by more than half. Emmett was good, but not as good as he would become, which was the version I was used to playing with. The only advantage this Emmett had over me was the fact I had a habit of hitting my targets too lightly, an after-effect from having vampiric strength in a mortal world for too long. Once I acclimated my skills, Emmett didn't stand a chance.

"Who taught you how to play?" Emmett asked when I was down to the last ball and he still had three left before the winning 8-ball hit.

I swept loose strands of my hair behind my ears. How many questions did he have to ask me where the answer was him?

"Are you upset that you're about to lose?" I responded back, changing the subject.

"Hah! 8-ball is the trickiest shot. Don't forget to call the pocket," he reminded me in jest.

I positioned myself, smirking. "Corner pocket," I said, eyeing the hole. "Right. There." I pointed with my cue stick at the pocket he stood directly on the other side of, in which his crotch was perfectly aligned. He didn't miss the allusion, pointedly resting his cue stick against the wall and folding both hands casually in front of him for 'protection'.

Feeling more lively than usual, I decided to show off a little for my winning shot. I readied my cue, aimed for my target ball, and set the cue ball loose toward it, banking off three walls and winding around two of Emmett's own striped balls, before the black 8-ball disappeared into its designated corner pocket.

I stood, cue stick erect, hip jutted out, hand on hip, head tilted. My braid had come undone and fell loosely around my shoulder. If I was a sweaty mess, I knew I was a beautiful sweaty mess by the way Emmett's eyes were on fire - and it wasn't because I had beat him, either. I knew him well enough to know that much.

"You know," Emmett said, breaking the silence that had befallen us. "If losing means losing to someone like you, I don't mind at all."

I swept my braid behind my shoulder with a shake of my head, distracting myself from his words by putting away my cue stick. He followed suit without a word. When we were standing side-by-side, in front of the rack, I controlled every urge I had that wanted to touch him and met his eyes with mine.

"I guess you'll be sticking with alcohol to ease your suffering," I said.

He shrugged, unable to keep his signature grin off his face. "Suffering isn't so bad if you have good company."

"Yes, I'm sure that redhead agrees with you."

It took him a moment to remember what I was referring to. When he did, his grin fell. He bit his bottom lip, unsure of how to right his wrong. It was a face I knew by heart. Innocent, regretful, and genuine. If it was anyone else... But it wasn't. It was him. Grudges were sort of my thing in the past - or the future - but never when it came to him. I could never find it in me to stay mad at him for long.

"But," I continued before our gaze could break. "If you would still like to offer that date, I might enjoy that."

"Are you sure?" he asked, unable to stop a smile through his disbelief.

"I have never been more sure in my life," I whispered, surprising even myself with my honesty. Something about the two of us here, this close, in an empty corner of a dying club. My sudden sincerity elicited another merry smile from Emmett.

"Right now," he said.

I balked, confused. "'Right now' what?"

Emmett laughed, leaning closer to me for the second time tonight. "Let's go on a date right now."

"It's almost midnight-"

Emmett waved me off, flashing his teeth. "Let's go get milkshakes and french fries. There's a 24-hour diner a block from here."

"Are you sure?"

He held his hand out for me. "I've never been more sure in my life."

* * *

 **OoOoOoO**

 **Thank you so much for your reviews and feedback! They really mean a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed this longer chapter, too :)**


	8. Chapter 7 - Family

**_As always, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy and tell me your thoughts :)_**

* * *

 **.:Chapter 7 - Family:.**

It was nearing 1'o'clock in the morning when Emmett walked me home. The streets weren't as empty on weekend nights, as pubs closed later and the gaggle of the intoxicated finally wandered home, nearing exhaustion.

Emmett and I had spent the late evening at a quaint, 24-hour, rail car diner prevalent in this time period. The Streamline Moderne elements added to my own personal nostalgia, making the whole event seem even more surreal, like a dream. A dream I never wanted to awake from. We sat in a corner booth against the wall, small and cramped and intimately perfect, with a milkshake between us and two slices of cherry pie. We had went back and forth asking questions about each other. There was seldom I didn't already know, but I played the game convincingly well. And it was nice - hearing him answer my questions for the first time again. A human, simpler Emmett, with no vampiric distractions. No guilt on my own shoulders or uncertainty in my own choices. It was just him and me, Emmett and Rosalie, two very human individuals bonding over a very human pastime.

Saint Maria's came into view around the final corner of our journey. As if the night could sense my dread of separation, the wind picked up and I hugged my coat closer to my body with my free arm. My other arm hung by my side, my hand warmly laced with Emmett's.

"This is where you spend your nights?" Emmett eyed the chipped-brick exterior of my boarding house, unimpressed. He was worried about me here.

"It is a lot cozier inside than it seems," I assured. He didn't buy my lie.

"I could think of cozier places to spend the night." He grinned, comfortable enough around me now to expand on his flirtatious euphemisms.

I rolled my eyes dramatically for him. "I'm sure you can."

He walked me to the door, smirking the entire way, like the immature idiot I've always known and loved.

Then he hesitated, only for a second. His grip on my hand tightened so infinitesimally that I almost thought I imagined it. But I knew, like me, he didn't want to let go. Not yet. Possibly not ever. I watched his profile expertly. That light gaze of his seemingly intent on the door had its real focus elsewhere. And although I already knew when Emmett was deep in thought, his newly added strictly-human micro-habits made it all the more clear. I waited for him to come to the conclusion I knew he would. His body suddenly tensed in a familiar way, when something he was debating in his head was resolved, when he was determined, when he was decided.

"Rose," he said, turning to me. Whatever he had planned to say after was unnecessary. The moment his blue eyes met mine he realized it, too.

Emmett's body was a map I had explored for a very long time. Mine he would come to understand over time, but for this moment, he read all he needed to. The communication our expressions favored, the language our bodies serviced, was readable only to us. My body knew what it wanted, and Emmett's would respond.

Emmett slid his free hand up my arm, up my neck, gentle and in pursuit. His palm against my cheek was cool and rough and familiar. The night was cold, yet neither of us had ever felt more warm. His touch ignited the best kind of flame - one that didn't destroy; but enlightened. A flame that told me home wasn't a place - it was a person. Emmett leaned down at the same time I pushed up, and the moment our lips met I knew I was home.

OoOoOoO

The night after we kissed, days started to bleed into each other. Life in Gatlinburg was no longer a dream - it was happening, now. And my days spent with Emmett were the happiest I had ever been, human. I went about my life, my work, the way any human woman would. I found the future to be a rather appealing topic to ponder. My main dream stolen from me had always been that choice of family, and coming back had only made me yearn for Emmett. Whether I would have gotten over him in time and had found another man well enough to be a husband and the father of my children, I didn't know. But, now, I didn't have to find out. I had found him. I had gone out and found Emmett.

And Emmett couldn't go a day without seeing me.

At first, I tried to appear nonchalant about it. But in the end, why should I? I was happy. I was human! And, amidst the obstacles, I had found my mate in a world I had only ever dreamed of. So if my eyes sparkled and a smile lit up my face every time he walked into my line of sight, then let the world see. After decades of self-deprecation, I deserved to be free in my found happiness. I was entitled to it.

Twilite Lounge was as rambunctious as ever by the end of the week. It was less an annoyance now that I had gotten what I wanted out of it, but I wasn't about to let the job go. Every penny I earned went in a jar that was hidden beneath a carefully pried apart floorboard. Eventually I would have to open my own savings account, but I had been avoiding banks on the pretense they reminded me too much of my life back in Rochester. It was silly, I guessed; but it made me feel in control of the situation.

After leaving a generous tip, the balding man who had confided his grave life story to me with the hope of inducing intimate sympathy from a beautiful blonde waitress had eventually found his way out of the lounge as the livelier, loving-life "youngsters" started to flood in. I had barely grabbed an untidy bundle of menus to re-stack when the seat was quickly occupied by someone much louder than its previous tenant.

"My dear, sweet, ever-radiant Rosalie!"

"Good evening, Emmett," I laughed. He made a habit of being increasingly more dramatic with his greetings to me this week.

" _Emmett_?" He pursed his lips, chagrined. "No 'dear'? No 'love-of-my-life'? No 'sweep-me-off-my-feet-and-carry-me-away-into-the-sunset hunk'?"

I quirked an amused eyebrow at him. "That all seems a bit superfluous, don't you think?"

"If I knew what that meant, babe, I'd probably disagree."

"Probably," I agreed. He laughed, not at all insecure in his manhood that a woman was smarter than he was. I had forgotten how accentuated that form of thought actually was in these times. Instead of dwelling on something I couldn't change overnight, I asked Emmett, "So, what do you have planned for us this weekend?"

His grin stretched impossibly larger. "Tomorrow I help around the farm, as promised to my lovely mother from her dedicated son." He paused, waiting for me to look the right amount of impressed. I humored him with an exaggerated hand on my chest and inaudible gasp of awe. Appeased, he continued. "Then, well, Sunday brunch is kind of Ma's favorite family tradition. And...it wouldn't feel right if I didn't attend with...you."

"Ah," I said, "so you finally told your mother about me?"

He appreciated my teasing the way most didn't. "She suspected," he chuckled.

Emmett was as transparent with his thoughts as they came. I was pretty sure Mrs. McCarty knew he was a goner the moment she saw me standing there on her porch that first day.

"And bribed you with food?" I added.

He shrugged, unashamed. I went back to stacking the menus, but Emmett's hand came down heavily on top of them.

"But I was going to tell her. Soon. You know that, right? I'm serious about you."

Jack Fletcher, one of Emmett's rowdiest friends, appeared abruptly and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "There ain't a serious bone in your body, McCarty!" Jack was already three drinks deep in his Friday night. He turned his drunken gaze on me. "You sure he's the one you want out of all of us eligible bachelors?"

Jack's remark wasn't all in jest. Behind the taunts he threw at Emmett and I every night, there was a layer of envy. Jack thought highly of himself. Not that Emmett would notice, or would care if he did. They'd known each other a long time.

Emmett spared me from answering the question. "Fletcher, not even that roguishly handsome face of yours," he ruffled Jack's hair, much to the chagrin of the man, "can compete with these biceps."

Pushing Emmett's arm away and watching my mate flex beneath his linen work shirt, Jack scoffed. "Let's see how well your biceps can help you at Pool. Ten bucks on the table."

Emmett caught me rolling my eyes and winked. "Sunday morning, babe. I'll pick you up after church." And with a dramatic spin and finger guns - honestly, where _did_ he learn that? - he was off to win ten dollars. Jack Fletcher didn't stand a chance considering I'd taught Emmett a few tricks I learned from the Cullens.

I went back to work, swallowing the past. It was easier to think of them as just another family. Not my family, or Emmett's family. Just a family I used to know. Just a passing group of strangers who taught me a little about myself and the world.

That was it.

By the time Sunday morning came around, I was ready to take on the McCarty's. My hair was perfectly curled. My shoes flawlessly shined. I had on the prettiest floral day dress I owned, looking very much like the city girl I was. There was no point in denying the fact that I wasn't a farm girl, so I refused to pretend. I would make Mrs. McCarty see that even a girl in city heels was a force to be reckoned with. Their family didn't need any more farmers - it needed a business woman.

"I could've taken the bus," I told Emmett, sliding into the passenger seat of his family's car. He pecked my cheek, sweet and flirty.

"Trust me, babe, you deserve a better ride than a bus."

I let him start the engine up before I replied. "You just wanted an excuse to drive."

He smirked and stepped on the gas.

When we got to his house, we barely made it up the porch steps before the front door swung open. From inside came loud laughter.

Emmett's eye lit up. "Ma! You remember Rosalie Hale?"

As disapproving as the first day we'd met, Jacqueline McCarty remained unsmiling. "Hard one to forget." She assessed my appearance with critical eyes. The fabric of my dress was a luxury no McCarty could afford, and I was sure that detail wasn't lost on Mrs. McCarty. She peered at me a moment longer, as if trying to see past me, into my thoughts, like I was playing a game she didn't know how to win.

Her unwavering suspicion of me was aggravating.

"It's nice to see you again, Mrs. McCarty," I said. An older Rosalie may have added a bit of sarcasm to that, but I remained polite. I really _did_ want to love this woman.

"Well." She cleared her throat, held her chin a little higher. "Food is all set out. Come on in, you two, and find a seat."

Inside was a testament to a 1920's lifestyle I never experienced. A decent-sized farmhouse integrated with furniture and decor that seemed to be hand-me-downs from previous generations of McCartys. The entry lead right into the living room, all thick panel boards and hand-woven rugs of deep reds and forest greens that only somewhat matched light sheets of patterned curtains. There was a single sofa, its fabric worn, and two wood chairs in front of the fireplace, the earliest of radios sat proudly on the mantle. Technology wasn't a big part of their life, apparently. They didn't even have a mounted phone yet; an old candlestick telephone sat on a rickety end table below one of the windows. Beyond the living area was a simple staircase retreating behind the living room walls, and next to it a small doorway that I presumed lead into a small den, as was the usual design for houses like this. The kitchen - an array of neutral browns and beige paint - was partially hidden, and in front of that, just a few feet beyond the sofa, was the dining table.

Food was definitely emphasized as most important in this family. I supposed that came with raising four sons. As the biggest piece of furniture they owned, their dining table was an elongated circle with a strip of red fabric sliced along the center, and plates of food scattered around it. _A lot_ of food. Nine chairs wrapped around the table, all but three filled with an occupant.

The room fell silent when we came in, and all eyes were on me.

Emmett was oblivious to the curiosity in the room.

"Emmett's here, the party can start!" He boomed up to the table, pulling out a chair for me and one for him, and by the various expressions of annoyance, amusement, and indifference that flitted across his family's faces at his enthusiasm, I could tell it was going to be quite an interesting experience.

OoOoOoO

The McCarty family was both exactly what I expected them to be like, and exactly the opposite. In a lot of ways, I could see Emmett in his parents, in his brothers, in his sister... They were all transparent. Nothing to hide. Nothing worth hiding. Family was everything to them, and intruders were held at a distance and placed under suspicion. Emmett's brothers were just as flirty as he was, and his father was just as charmingly boyish. His little sister, Evelyn, was more like their mother, but Emmett could bring the dimples out of her that they shared when Evelyn let her guard down.

On the other hand, the more I interacted with them, the more I noticed that out of all of them, Emmett was the outcast. Emmett embraced his boyish tendencies. Emmett enjoyed the jokes and the laughter and steered conversations as far from serious as he could get them. General psychology tells me it has a lot to do with growing up being the youngest of the four brothers - a little more spoiled, a little more trying to earn his spot among the ranks and not being allowed to. Eventually, young Emmett would have stopped trying to be better than his brothers, and would have instead started embracing exactly who he already was. Of course, even accepting he would never join the ranks of his older brothers, Emmett would never, subconsciously, _stop_ trying to be the best. It was why he was so competitive.

It was also why he tended to get along best with his sister. Evelyn was at an age where she was easily influenced. She was tough and lovely and just young enough where the McCarty reigns of work ethic hadn't sunk too deep into her yet, where Emmett's influence could keep her childhood lighthearted. Even if little Evelyn tried not to show it.

Emmett snuck a sweet potato off Evelyn's plate. Her jaw clenched; she wanted to protest. Her brothers always got more food than she did. They were the growing boys in her family. The social construct of her time period tells her she can't afford to gain too much weight. A dreary frown played at her pink lips. She wanted to play with Emmett, yet she knew her mother was always watching her. If she so much as slouched, she'd get an earful. And if anyone could give an earful it was Mrs. McCarty.

I nudged Emmett under the table so he'd give his sister back her food. As much as he hated it, as much as he couldn't understand it, Evelyn couldn't afford to be him. Maybe what she needed was a sisterly-touch...

"So, Rosalie."

Robert McCarty was the eldest of the siblings, and the ring leader. Although just as taken aback by my beauty as the other men in this household had been, now the only thing on Robert's mind was grinding on his little brother's nerves. I had become a tool in the McCarty brothers' arsenal.

"You're all our Emmett, here, can talk about these days," he said. "He's easy to distract, of course. Not much of a multi-thinker, that kid."

"I'm sitting right here," Emmett said, animatedly pointing to his chair. "Right. Here."

A mischievous smirk ignited Robert's face. "Hadn't noticed. You're not usually _all_ here."

Emmett tapped his fingers in a rhythm against the table, debating a comeback. Instead, he tilted his head down to me and loudly whispered, "Rob likes to pretend his decent marks in school meant something. Funny how he works side-by-side with me at the railroads, though, isn't it?" He laughed. His brother did not, his smirk vanishing instantly. And immediately I knew this could go very, very bad.

Robert turned his attention back to me, his voice suspiciously tuned to playful. "I should warn you, Rosalie. He's not as strong in the physical labor department, either."

Emmett's carefree tapping stopped.

"Did he promise you he could take care of you?" his brother Todd chortled. "Leaving Emmett to take care of anything on his own usually leads to one of us having to take over."

His third brother, Warren, can't seem to help but join in. He leans in conspiratorially. "Just let me know when he starts slacking, Rosalie. I'm right here - next in line."

Raucous laughter was sharply interrupted by Emmett's palms slamming down on the dining room table. Plates chimed as they rattled against the silverware.

"Enough," Emmett growled. His chest was puffed out, his shoulders tense, and his body was infinitesimally leaned closer to me, as if I was the prey of his predatory brothers and he wasn't about to let them eat me. Leave it to Emmett to worry about me when he was the one being verbally ambushed.

"Yes," Mrs. McCarty said, precise and clear and gently placing both her palms on the table and pushing herself up until she was standing over us all. "Enough," she agreed, never taking her eyes off Emmett.

My mind flashed back to many instances where Emmett had gotten into an argument with Edward or Jasper or both. For the most part it had always been in good fun, whether it differed from Esme's definition of "good fun" or not. But for the rare occasions where they were truly angry at each other, I was there on Emmett's side every time.

This, however, didn't feel like a family argument. This felt like a battle that had been fought many times over and yet never gets resolved. This was a victory Emmett could never gain, and one he'd been fighting for for too long. I could see it in his eyes. As I placed my hand on his arm to calm him down and lower him back into his seat, his face sketched out a history of a permanent place at the bottom of the McCarty family pyramid.

It was something I could never picture during the seldom times Emmett ever talked about his human family in the past. Now, however, the reality of what he meant was clear, yet unfathomable. How could they not see what I saw?

"Geez, Emmett," Warren muttered, with Robert adding on, "Learn to be a man."

I had to forcefully bite my tongue until I tasted blood. Luckily, Mr. McCarty - after shaking his head at his sons - chose that moment to change the subject.

"You lads need practice on how to behave when there are visitors." He turned to me, smiling apologetically. The lines on his face etched a picture of Emmett in a couple decades - hardworked and handsomely aged. Although the apology in his light eyes was genuine, his worry was just as eminent, much like his wife's. "Did your parents own a farm up in New York, Rosalie?"

I was sure his wife had filled him in on enough details, but I humored him. "No, sir. My father worked at a bank. In the city."

"Makes sense why you're so sure of yourself," Mrs. McCarty noted before taking a bite of her food.

 _Calm breaths_ , I reminded myself. Perhaps Emmett was never so argumentative because too much of his family _was_.

"I may not have much experience in the field, but I am quite well educated on the subject of botany and agriculture. I've also volunteered at animal hospitals on various occasions." I took a sip of my freshly-squeezed orange juice to let that sink in. "So, in a way, I offer knowledge while Emmett offers labor. It's a nice balance. And, I'm a quick learner."

There was silence at the table, all eyes on me once again. Beside me, Emmett was doing nothing to suppress his giant grin.

"What good is knowledge if it can't be utilized," Mrs. McCarty contended. "Knowledge doesn't pay the bills, Miss Hale."

Emmett's mother was a smart woman. As smart as she was argumentative. She knew exactly how important higher education was. Emmett always said she had wished she could have afforded to send her sons to college instead of them having been forced to find work anywhere they could for the rest of their lives. Mrs. McCarty wanted to know how _I_ thought knowledge was going to pay the bills.

Well, I planned not to disappoint.

"I plan to go to college," I said, surprising even Emmett. "With my inheritance, with my degree... Emmett and I can start our own agriculture business. We'll be just fine." I leveled with Mrs. McCarty, but I also wanted her to understand I was dedicated to this family as a whole. "And we can stay close, and-"

"And use your _fancy knowledge_ to steal our business, our buyers?" Mrs. McCarty matched my hard stare, before I broke away and glanced at Emmett. Clearly I had said the wrong thing, and I was already skating on thin ice with this woman. Emmett knew his mother better than I did; however, one look at his face told me he wasn't about to jump to my aid.

Just like I hadn't with his brothers.

We weren't _that_ Emmett and Rosalie yet.

Mr. McCarty cleared his throat. I was beginning to see he was the master of changing the subject in this household. He started up a conversation with Robert about the land they were offered a deal on at the edge of their property that would expand their farm, and the conversation easily slid away from me and Emmett, and deliberately never found its way back.

OoOoOoO

After not even leftovers remained, Mrs. McCarty shoo'd everyone out of her dining room except for Evelyn. I was about to offer to help clean up - or just start grabbing dishes to prove I took initiative just fine - but Emmett grabbed my hand and pulled me out the back door where their porch widened and someone had built a porch swing out of old barn wood.

He didn't say a word as we sat. I wondered how long Emmett could possibly stay silent. I wondered if it was his brothers who had upset him; or me. I wondered a lot of things in this moment.

We'd been swinging no longer than two minutes before he pulled away from me, stood, and walked across the porch to lean against the railing, staring out across his parents' immense property. Property they could probably sell and be better off looking for other work. Yet, I knew it was a fleeting thought, because being "better off" wasn't the point to the McCarty's. Farming was their way of life. It was hard to admit defeat and step away from that. I pictured a past Emmett - a vampire Emmett - asking Edward for money to help his human family before he walked away from them and never looked back... Would they have made it through The Depression without that money? Or would they have sunk, like so many did?

"College?"

It took me a minute for Emmett's question to register.

"Yes," I said. "I'm fit for college. I'd excel at it." This, coming from personal experience.

After a moment of him not responding, I asked, "Does that upset you?"

"They think marrying you is going to add to their burden," he said, and I froze. _You already think of marrying me_. "They don't think I can take care of you. That I'm not capable. That I'm not disciplined enough, serious enough, _smart_ enough. I always got terrible marks in school. But, Rose," he spun around, grabbing both my hands in his, "I swear I'd do anything for you! You believe that, don't you?"

I squeezed his hands reassuringly. "More than you know."

His wild gaze softened slightly. "But you're still going to go to school, aren't you?"

"Emmett," I chuckled, finally seeing what was upsetting him. "I am not going to apply for college because I think you can't do a fine job of providing for me. I am going to apply for college because it's what I want to do. I _do_ excel at school. I rather enjoy it, actually. I will even let you call me a Nerd if you'd like."

This got a laugh from him, like he couldn't imagine any woman like me as a "nerd", something not quite as glorified yet as it will become in future pop culture.

"So, that's it?" he asked. "Really? Not that I understand how you'd _want_ to go, but..."

It was my turn to laugh. I kissed his cheek, catching him off guard and bringing a little color into his face. "School isn't for everyone, but it doesn't make you any less intelligent."

"Right. Try telling that to my brothers." He sighs, sitting back on the swing with me.

Sitting out here with Emmett, rocking back and forth on an old porch swing, hand-in-hand, gazing out at the blue horizon... It was like a dream. A dream I'd had many times over. The only difference was Emmett and I were as old as the swing, gray haired and aged, and this was the start. This, right here, right now, was the beginning of a future where that dream had the possibility of manifesting. And yet, I couldn't bring the joy that should come along with that realization, because Emmett's smile still hadn't reached his eyes.

We could hear his brothers laughing back inside the house, his father joining in.

"What do you expect from them, Emmett?" I asked quietly.

"The hell if I know," he muttered. He ran his fingers through his hair, grunting. "They think you're too good for me," he added with a humorless laugh. "And they think we can't make it together, or we're betraying them somehow."

Satisfied butterflies floated through my chest at his constant use of 'we'. Even with his family's doubts, Emmett was completely sure.

He continued, shaking his head. "They could let me face this alone. Kick me out. Throw the burden off their back. But we McCartys don't leave our family behind." He hesitated. "Well, at least that was what my parents always used to say."

"They don't anymore?" I wondered.

"Well, no. I don't know exactly when it changed. Probably when we had to sell half our stock, when we started struggling to keep afloat. But, hell, my brothers and I bring in more than enough! We're _saving_ money. Not most families can say that these days."

"Perhaps they're afraid of losing you," I said. "Having some woman come along and snatch you away when they need you."

"They don't need me."

"Some people aren't good at showing it, Emmett."

"Pfft, I can't imagine my family like that. Ever. This is the way they've always been, Rose, and it's the way they always will be. Heh, maybe that's why I've always wished..." He trailed off like he didn't mean to say this much. It was rare for him to be uncertain. To stop himself from telling me anything.

"You've always wished what?" I hedged when he was reluctant to go on. He took a deep breath. I could tell this was something he'd never told anyone before. Something he probably hasn't ever said out loud.

"I've always wished I had the type of family that wasn't afraid to care about each other.

"You know, a father who supports with love, not just financially. A mother who is as warm as she is strong. Brothers who laugh with me, who I feel I can tell anything to. A sister who I can tease, but also who knows it's in good fun and we go back-and-forth with some funny banter... I love my family, Rose, don't get me wrong. And, man, this has got to sound awful, but I've always felt there was a part of me that was someplace else, with some other family. Somewhere."

The silence after his confession wasn't silent at all. My ears flooded with the sound of my heart. It beat out of rhythm, out of sync with what was natural. It was like I could suddenly hear my blood flowing guiltily through my veins. A weight sunk into my chest, slid like molasses into the pit of my stomach and hardened like clay; my bones ached with the extra weight. It made me nauseous. It was suddenly very hot outside. My skin boiled, and sweat gathered and clung beneath my dress. And all the while my heart howled, knowing it shouldn't exist.

 _This was my fault._

"Rose?"

I blinked, my vision refocusing on Emmett. I realized I was just staring at him. Probably in horror. And if he ever understood why - would he hate me?

"I have to go," I stammered out, scooping up my skirt and rising.

Emmett was on his feet, too. "What? Why?"

"I'm feeling off," I answered. It wasn't a lie.

Worry creased Emmett's face. "I'll get my Ma-"

"No, no," I said hurriedly. I could not bear to face anyone right now. I could hardly face Emmett, and I was losing it fast. "Please, I know I'll be alright," I lied. "I just need to go home and lay down."

With a gasp, I was suddenly in Emmett's arms. He carried me to his family car, opened the door with his foot, and set me gently inside. The keys were left in the ignition, so we were on the road before his mother could run out after us. Probably with a shotgun.

Not that I could blame her anymore, could I?

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against the cool glass of the window, hoping Emmett could remain quiet the entire ride because the Emmett I remembered never really had a dream, a wish. He would pursue degrees that interested him. He would learn trades he found fun. But there was never any loss in him, any longing that he had left anything behind. Every time I would ask if he had something he'd always wanted to accomplish he would say, 'Nope. I have everything I want.' Then he would smile a secret smile and go, 'Trust me.'

 _My God, he was telling the truth._

The car swayed and memories after suppressed-memories circulated in my pounding head. Just before reaching St. Maria's, I remembered a time when Esme, Alice and I debated over the issue of Fate, of Destiny. Whether it existed or whether it was all coincidence. I never believed in it. Never believed I could have been destined for such tragedy. It seemed a ridiculous concept.

But now there was this voice between the throes of my blaring heartbeat that questioned everything I once thought I knew. It blistered my thoughts until they popped, until they stung. It wondered if maybe Esme - so solid in her belief that things may exist despite our lack of understanding of them - could have been right. The voice told me it was never about me. It told me that I was foolish to believe it had been.

It told me that perhaps Emmett had been the one destined to be a Cullen, and that I was simply fated for Emmett.

And I had killed his dream for mine.


	9. Chapter 8 - Implications

**Another chapter! Finally! I kept writing and re-writing and re-editing, but I wanted it perfect. It's also on the shorter side because I cut a good portion out for next chapter - it just flows better this way.**

 **As always, thank you for reading and leaving comments! I truly do appreciate them :)**

* * *

 **.:Chapter 8 - Implications:.**

Rough springs dug into my ribs as I turned on my side. Rain dripped languidly down the window pane and found its way in through a small leak in the right corner, making my room smell damp and musky. It was hard to keep from yearning for something more luxurious, something more fitting for me. But then the guilt would come, battering through me like an ignited fuse.

 _Haven't you asked for enough?_ it would say. _You got what you wanted - can you really complain?_

Then came the rationalization.

 _It's okay to want things - it's part of what forms ambition. You're allowed to have bad days. You're only human._

Thunder shook the walls and I sighed, turning onto my other side and pulling my scratchy blankets closer to me.

This was only temporary, I reminded myself. I'd move into a dorm eventually, while Emmett continued to help his family. And then, after I graduated, we'd marry and start a family.

I choked at the thought. My eyes watered without my consent. The conflict I was experiencing made me even more impatient for that dream; yet, I knew Emmett and I needed to be financially stable first. This country's economic future didn't give us much option, and I wanted the very best for my future children... For my future family.

That was what would make things right. Right for me. And right for Emmett.

It had to.

Even with that concrete hope, my night remained sleepless. I failed to shake the implications of 'destiny' and 'fate' from my thoughts. If such things existed - to what extent? And if freewill existed - how much could it be used to shape your own future? Or that of someone else's? Theoretically speaking, I tried to console myself with twenty-first century postulations of the multiverse, the linear timelines versus parallel universes. There was no One Way to live your life, so surely Fate should not be an accepted form of truth. Scientifically, there should not be any such thing.

However, accepting alternate universes instead, universes that branched out from every decision one could make while playing out their lives, then what changes? One's choices could affect a whole sub-plot of a handful of lives at a time, and it was like my subconscious had been waiting for me to wonder the answer of such questions. The speed at which it threw memories through my head was overwhelming, because no matter if life had a fixed timeline or a multitude of endless possibilities, I had to come to terms with what I was willing to accept in the one I was living.

In this universe the Cullen family would be two vampires short. Without me and Emmett, what was destined to change?

What was being forced to change?

What could go wrong, because of my absence or Emmett's?

My memories spun like a spinning wheel, woven into thread that entangled my conscience.

Without me, what would happen to Renesmee after conception? What would happen to her had I not been there for Bella to call on for understanding, for support, for protection from an unwanted abortion? And the pregnancy in its entirety, with every cruel twist of blood loss, blood lust, and werewolf interventions - the lack of any one person, especially someone who had been in the center of it all, could change the outcome so drastically that imagining it wasn't even possible. Hell, would Edward have even come home to Bella after her disastrous eighteenth birthday if I had not been around to call him? Of course, it wasn't the proudest decision of my life, but it had been significant to my family's history. And with their numbers down by two, would they have even been able to stop Jasper from his onslaught in the first place? Would he have harmed Bella? Would he have killed her? What would that have done to my brothers, to my sisters, to my parents? And if they had been able to...that doesn't mean they would have fared as well against a newborn army. Would they run into James and Victoria? Would they fight? Would they win?

Would Edward even find Bella to begin with? Emmett's slip-ups with blood lust were a significant portion of our reasons for moving on so soon from various locations we called home. If the length of time changes in even one of those spots, what were the odds the Cullens would end up in Forks in the two-and-a-half year time-period when Bella exists there?

And further still, for all the backtracking, there was one detrimental event that could change everything...

Without me - without my vampiric strength to protect him from the accident that brought him to me in the first place - would Emmett die?

That bear was out there somewhere. One hunting trip was all it could take for Emmett to disappear from this universe forever...

 _No._

His encounter with the bear wasn't until two-years time. By then, his lifestyle would be just different enough where he would not need to poach animals to provide food for his family. I would make sure of it.

By the time the dull glow of sunlight pushing through gray clouds filtered across my tired eyes, the only conclusion I could come to was that the Cullens - whatever their story - were on their own. They had a way of persevering that I had to believe would not change. Ultimately, Emmett and I were on our own too, and I had to pray I still had the strength to protect him. Because this was the reality of our situation. This was the way things were this time around, for better or for worse.

I planned to do right by Emmett, to give him a family he always wanted to have, by my own power. No matter what.

 **OoOoOoO**

"Are you sure you're feeling better?"

It was the tenth time Emmett asked me tonight. The club was pulsing and I had been unnaturally quiet during my shift. Plus, it didn't help how tired I was from my nightmarish lack of sleep.

"Emmett, I promise. The rain kept me up all night is all."

Blue eyes narrowed into slits as they inspected my face for any sense of fabrication. If he found something, he didn't say anything; instead, taking the final sip of his own alcoholic concoction that he had convinced me to make against my better judgement. The glass clinked back onto the table. "Ma said it's supposed to rain all week, so if that rain isn't helping you get to sleep..." he paused, an eyebrow arching seductively. "I'd be willing to help out."

Biting my smirk back, I said, "I'm sure you would", as I leaned across the counter, my blouse tightening in all the right places. His gaze fell into my trap.

"However," I continued, low and warm, slowly leaning farther forward, almost crawling over the counter-top in a very unprofessional way. I put my lips to Emmett's ear. My breath was hot as it washed over his skin. I whispered, "I doubt we would be doing much sleeping, Emmett McCarty..."

I swore I could feel the shiver radiate through his body, a satisfying sensation.

And then Edmund was suddenly occupying the seat beside Emmett. He coughed loudly.

"Am I interrupting something?"

I easily lifted from my position to grab him a drink. "Not at all," I answered playfully, sauntering over to the empty glasses. I heard Emmett groan.

"Edmund, when a gorgeous woman has her lips to my ear, it is not an invitation for your company."

"Apologies, pal." Edmund couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice. "Best I break it up now, though, before you two love birds get too dizzy. Public place after all."

Emmett grinned. "Even steamier."

"Oh, please," I scoffed, sliding Edmund his usual glass of bourbon and lime juice.

After thanking me, Edmund turned to Emmett and said, "So, the guys are talking about a baseball game at the fields this Friday night."

Emmett's eyes lit up competitively. "Are they now? Still upset over their ass beating last time, huh?" He turned to me. "We beat 'em good. 3-12. Two grand slams by yours truly. And they only got those three runs at the end because Ken twisted his ankle and we were down a man."

"We're still one man short, though. Norman is out of town." After a sip of his drink, Edmund's smile was wider. "Imagine, though, showing up with a bar maid as his replacement."

Both men turned their sparkling eyes to me. The first time I had joined Emmett and Edmund in the park while they practiced batting, I had innocently commented how much fun it looked and asked to 'try'. Nothing was as priceless as the look on two grown men's faces as a baseball hit by a woman flew to the next field over; except, perhaps, the look on the faces of a whole team of grown men...

"You would like to reduce your friends' egos that much, would you?" I asked them, grinning.

"Nothing would make me happier," Emmett laughed. Then his eyes went to the front of my blouse again. "Well except-"

"I'm going to stop you right there and simply accept the invitation," I said.

Emmett pouted, while Edmund and I high-fived. If anyone appreciated breaking the status-quo of social norms in this time, it was Emmett's gay best friend who happens to love conspiring against the unjust as much as I do. We spent the rest of the night excited about the prospect, even with Emmett's innuendos slipping their way into conversation. It was a surprisingly pleasant night, with the talk of playing baseball an added bonus in itself. Here I had all but accepted that I would have to give up playing the sport I loved when coming back to this period in time; a minor sacrifice in the span of things. It was startling how much something so simple lifted my spirits. More than that, it became a wonderful distraction from my fear-mongering doubts from last night.

As Emmett worked days and I worked nights, the anticipation of the baseball game helped keep my anxiety at bay for the remainder of the week, until words like _Fate_ and _Destiny_ and _Guilt_ fell mute in the background of life in Gatlinburg.

By late afternoon Thursday, I was feeling nearly one-hundred percent myself again, confident, beautiful, strong and in control. I even spent a little money and picked up a bat and glove fitted to my more delicate frame than what the boys offered. Delicate frame in size, in any case. If the disapproving yet unwillingly awed stares of those I passed as I strutted down the streets in trousers and boots were anything to go by, I was a force to be reckoned with.

Emmett, Edmund, and I had plans to meet at some park fields close to St. Maria's at 4 o'clock and I practically ran there in my newfound excitement. It was hardly like me at all.

Edmund was already there, waiting.

"Rose! My favorite bearcat," he greeted with a dramatic wave. "Ready to hone your athletic talent for tomorrow?"

I dropped my purse and bat beside our claimed tree, slid my hand into my baseball mitt, and picked up one of the baseballs from his stock.

"If my athletic talent sharpened any further I would be playing in the Major League," I responded. "Where's Emmett?"

"His ma' needed him to drop off some packages at the post office. He didn't want you to get here first and be alone, of course, so he sent me on ahead." He winked. Edmund had me pegged well enough to know I could take care of myself.

Getting settled in the outfield, Edmund and I tossed a ball back and forth as we waited for our third member, wearing in my new glove.

Edmund was a sociable person who was nice to be around, and I had adopted him as a friend from the beginning. He didn't have family obligations after work the way Emmett did, which meant I was used to stealing the rest of his free time. Cheerful and sportive, yet cautious; Edmund was a good complement to Emmett's extremism. I could only assume I had him to thank for keeping Emmett out of trouble. Well, deeper trouble. He also never asked too many questions, sensing I never cared to talk about my past, which I appreciated the most, especially from someone who enjoyed eavesdropping on others' conversations unabashedly. He knew of my parents' accident, of my generous 'inheritance', and that I was here alone, starting over. And it was something he seemed to always admire me for when brought up, which made me wonder if he secretly wished he could start somewhere fresh himself. As an only child of a widowed mother who had passed on from a fever a few years back, Edmund only really had Emmett as a true companion left. And as for future companions... he and I both knew Gatlinburg, Tennessee was one of the last places he would find an ounce of acceptance to the lifestyle he yearned for.

"Have you ever thought of moving west, Edmund?" I asked, throwing the ball in a high arch.

He trotted a couple steps to catch it. He looked up, thoughtful. "West?"

"Yes. Or even, you know, moving to a less...conservative town? Less traditional in its views?"

Understanding lit his face. He smirked. "Trying to get Emmett all to yourself, eh?" he joked.

I grinned back. "Guilty. Although, if anything, I've stolen you away from Emmett."

"A trade-off I will gladly take - just don't tell him that."

We both laughed.

"I think," he said after a minute, throwing the ball back into the air for me to catch, "no matter where you go in the world, it isn't much different than where you are now, is it?"

"Unless I could have found Emmett back in New York, without having to travel miles alone to a new home... I suppose, _then_ , you would be right," I replied.

He chuckled. "Point taken. Intolerance is a bit more complicated than that, I am afraid."

"That, too, is a fair point." I sighed. And there was a lot of obstacles, now and in the future, that Edmund could very well get caught up in no matter where he went. "The risk, though," I prodded. "I feel the risk is worth taking if there is even a chance to find what you want in life."

The ball landed in Edmund's mitt again. He rolled it in his palm for a moment as he pondered my words. When he finally looked back up at me, it was with a sad smile.

"Did I ever tell you that my mother only moved to Gatlinburg after my father passed?" he said. "I was merely a child, but I remember her telling me that to start a new life you needed a new place to start. It sounded reasonable at the time."

"You don't agree with her now?" I wondered.

"Chances... Risks..." He shrugged. "They can be taken anywhere, can't they? My mother, unbeknownst to little ol' me at the time, was quite depressed when my father died. It was ruining her mind, her social reputation, and ultimately her ability to take care of me. She was smart enough to realize this, and I give my mother credit for that, I really do. However, her solution was to leave. Start over. Thinking a blank slate would be all we needed..."

Edmund's eyes grew distant, his mind far away in the past. A heaviness chilled the pit of my stomach that I couldn't explain.

"She moved us to a new state, gave us a brand new life. She told me once that it was like living a second life, that she had a second chance - she had experience on her side, wisdom, and so she was more confident...but also more cautious, as she knew of the bad things that lurked in the shadows with every decision. She seemed happier at first, of course, but the mind is a funny thing. Sometimes, it thinks it knows what it wants when it doesn't. Sometimes, it thinks what it wants is the same thing as what it needs. And sometimes, it doesn't always realize that what it wants isn't necessarily what is going to make it happiest... My mother's fatal fever was a symptom of her deep depression, the very thing she tried so hard to escape.

"But you can't escape something by painting over it with white. When a deck of cards deals you a certain hand, a new deck doesn't erase the chances of you getting those exact same cards. That's why it isn't about where I am; it's about _who_ I am. The world won't change my circumstances from one place to the next. If I'm going to deal with the consequences of my lifestyle, then I'm just going to have to _deal with them_."

Edmund's eyes met mine, his forehead crinkled and lips pursed, coming out of the epiphany of his thoughts. "Does that make sense?"

I had no answer for him, trying to process this onslaught of information that I could hardly fathom. Then, like a snap of fingers, he shook his head with an abrupt laugh, lifting the atmosphere.

"Ah well. I suppose I wouldn't be completely opposed to moving out of Tennessee if the opportunity arose. Now that I have you to look after Emmett and all."

I caught the ball he tossed back to me and mustered a laugh of my own. There was clearly a range of parallels between Edmund's mother and me, but just because it failed to work out for her did not mean it would fail to work out for me. Her human life and my human-to-vampire life were so drastically different! The similarities were hardly significant.

"I'm sorry about your mother," I said. "Her choice might not have worked out for her, but there was one good thing that came out of it - she brought you to Emmett. And I'm sure he and I are both grateful to her for that."

Edmund's responding smile brightened the mood further, lighting up his eyes. "I can drink to that!"

"Then tonight, a round on me!"

We raised our mitts as if clinking glasses.

For the next fifteen minutes, Edmund and I widened our distance. We raced from one end of the field to the other, never stopping the ball's movement as best we could. Stationary, I showed off the extent of power I could thrust into my throws, which he insisted must be recreated tomorrow night for the guys. He threw one just as hard back at me to make sure I could take it as well as I could dish it, but then something caught his eyes before I could throw it back. Edmund straightened, cocking his head to the side slightly. I turned.

Emmett had apparently arrived without a sound. He was at our tree, carrying something he couldn't take his eyes off.

How long had he been standing there?

There was an uneasiness that suddenly filled the air around me. Emmett never just appeared; you always heard him. He announced his presence verbally the way I announced mine physically.

Edmund and I shared a confused look before heading over to him.

"Hey, Em!" Edmund called as we walked.

Emmett shifted but did not look up.

Something was definitely off.

I waited until we were a few feet away before I tried to get his attention. The thing he held was a simple sheet of paper and I couldn't imagine what had to be written on it to stun him into silence.

"Emmett?"

At my voice, he stepped back, and... _cringed_?

"Emmett!" I said, stern now, confused at his reaction and angry that he wouldn't look up at me and respond like a normal human being!

At my tone he finally did look up, straight at me, blue eyes meeting mine anger for anger. His expression stopped me and Edmund cold.

 _Anger?_

At _me_?

"Emmett, what... What is the matter with you?"

My words finally snapped him out of silence. He straightened, though his eyes flashed even darker. "With _me_?" he demanded, loud, bellowing.

As worried as I was, my defensiveness took the reigns. I glared back at him and matched his tone.

"Yes _you_! You clearly have a problem-"

"The only person with a problem here is the girl with her face plastered all over the post office!"

My heart froze. " _What_?"

He turned the paper around and held it up. My own gorgeous face smiled back at me, hair curled and pinned under a feathered hat, framed and saturated in black and white tones. Printed above my portrait, in the boldest font of the times:

 **MISSING: ROSALIE LILLIAN HALE**


End file.
